Points for Ice Cream
by sandyfin
Summary: A calculus project over Christmas break is bad enough. And to make matters worse, Jamie gets stuck working with that blonde girl who sits in the back of the class and never shuts up. He isn't happy about it, but things don't exactly turn out the way he expects. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Monday_

"Are you done?"

Jamie doesn't even have to turn around to know who Ms. Chapple is talking to. He sighs and leans forward, resting his chin in his hand—irritated, as usual, by the chatty blonde sophomore who sits three desks behind him. Her tittering dies down and she offers a quick, giggly "Sorry" while Ms. Chapple waits for silence.

"Now, I know it's mean to assign a project over break, and I'm sorry," the teacher continues, earning a collective groan from the twenty students who sit in front of her. "But the school board still wants to display your work at the winter open house, even though they moved it up by two weeks this year. So giving you the assignment now is the best way to make sure you've got enough time to get it done."

"Nobody's going to work on it over break." It's not the annoying sophomore this time, but it's one of her two senior partners in crime.

"And that's why I have a little incentive for you all," Ms. Chapple says. "I plan to have judges who'll watch your in-class presentations and vote on the best creative solution to the traffic problem. The winners will get five bonus points to use on a test in the third quarter, and gift certificates to Pressey's Ice Cream Parlor on Sterling."

This catches Jamie's attention. He couldn't care less about free ice cream, but five extra points on a calculus test? Considering he got an 86 on last week's quiz—he can't remember the last time he scored that low on anything—he can use all the points he can get. He exchanges a glance with Thomas Cline, knowing that his friend is thinking the same thing: they're two of the best students in the class, and together they're sure to kick this project's butt. Ms. Chapple might as well hand them As and send them off to Pressey's right now.

"One more thing," Ms. Chapple says, and the students quiet themselves again. "You won't be choosing your own partners for this project. I've already assigned pairs and given everyone a different intersection to work with."

The room fills with more grumbles of protest. Thomas's panicked expression mirrors Jamie's as their smug confidence evaporates. Thomas is the only classmate Jamie trusts with something as important as a project with extra credit on the line. He twists in his front row desk to sweep the room, barely holding back a grimace as he confirms that he doesn't want any of these clowns to influence his grade.

Ms. Chapple rolls her eyes and laughs a little at the reaction. "Oh, relax, it's not the end of the world. Go ahead and get out your problem sets, and I'll call you back to give you your assignment sheets."

Nobody listens; instead they all turn to their neighbors to whisper about this development.

"This is stupid," Thomas hisses.

"If she wants _good_ projects for the open house, she should let us pick partners," Jamie agrees.

"Yeah—like, I'd see you over Christmas anyway, so we could've just gotten it done…"

"And I need the extra credit."

"Bullshit," Thomas whispers, and Jamie sends a nervous glance around the room. To his relief, Ms. Chapple is busy with the first pair and she doesn't hear. "An A-minus is not actually a bad grade, Jamie."

"No, I got a B on the last quiz!"

"Oh, no! Jamie got a B on a quiz that everybody else failed!" Thomas teases. "What's he going to do?"

"Shut up," Jamie groans.

"Thomas and Jacob, you're up," Ms. Chapple calls.

Thomas gives Jamie an apprehensive look as he slides out of his seat. He heads back to the teacher's desk, and Jamie's last hope for a good partner dissolves. He doubts that any of the remaining students will be willing to do schoolwork during Christmas break. With a sigh, Jamie accepts that if he wants those extra points he'll have to do his entire project himself.

Jamie doesn't focus on the worksheet of Rolle's Theorem problems in front of him. He just listens as Ms. Chapple continues to call more pairs. Hannah Kirkland, the only junior in the class besides Thomas and himself, is pretty good at math—but she ends up with Emma. Matthew Reilly, a senior Jamie knows from debate, wouldn't be awful to work with—and then he gets matched with one of the annoying sophomore's equally annoying friends.

"Let's see. Eddie and Jamie, come on back."

What? No. No, no, no. Jamie would rather work with Zack Derstein, who's had senioritis since 10th grade, than the _actual_ 10th grader who shouldn't even be in such a high-level math class. She constantly asks dumb questions in class, whispers to her friends for clarification—Jamie knows she won't be able to keep up with him, and he doesn't have time to help her.

Eddie grins at him as they make their way up the narrow aisles to Ms. Chapple's desk in the back of the classroom. Jamie scowls back so that both his teacher and his new partner understand exactly how he feels about this arrangement.

"Okay. Jamie and Eddie. Here you go." Ms. Chapple turns two packets around so that the students can see them right side up from across her desk. "You're going to be dealing with traffic flow at 5th and Union. This is a hard one, since it's two-way streets in both directions, but I think you two can handle it. This equation models traffic flow with respect to time of day, and the full instructions are on the second page. You should start thinking about it this week so you can ask any questions before break, got it?"

Eddie nods enthusiastically, her shoulder-length blonde waves bouncing in Jamie's peripheral vision. He just mutters, "Got it," and takes his copy of their packet to his seat.

* * *

"Hey Jamie! Jamie! _Jamie Reagan_!"

Jamie turns slowly as he finishes at his locker, wondering for a moment whose unfamiliar voice calls to him across the hall. He locates his math partner dodging through the crowded hallway, moving against the end-of-day traffic to get to him. She pushes her way over and leans back against the locker next to his.

"Hi, Eddie." How did she know where to find his locker?

"When do you want to meet for the project?" she asks.

"Um…"

"Because I have half an hour right now. We could start."

Jamie glances at his watch. "Sorry. I have debate."

"Until when?"

"Five."

"What about after?"

"After?" Jamie repeats. "I have to be home for dinner."

"Oh. Dinner." Eddie chews on her bottom lip, eyes darting around the hallway as she thinks. "Tomorrow after school?"

Jamie shakes his head. "Debate. It's every day. Uh, how early can you get here?"

"You mean before school?"

"Yeah."

She looks at him as if she's never heard a dumber question. "I have practice."

"Practice?"

"Swim practice." She grabs the zipper of the fleece jacket she wears over her uniform and holds it out so Jamie can see the embroidered logo: _Brooklyn Barracudas_.

"In the morning?"

"Yeah, swim practice, in the morning. What's with the questions?"

"Sorry," Jamie says. "I just—"

"Jamie, you coming?"

Jamie looks up to see Thomas approaching behind Eddie. "Yeah, let's go," he says, shutting his locker with a clang.

"Wait, but what about—?" Eddie yelps.

"I don't know. We'll figure it out later," Jamie tells her, though it's an empty promise. He'd rather do the whole project himself than let her drag down his grade, so if they can't find a time to meet—well, Jamie certainly won't lose sleep over it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thursday_

"Eddie? Lauren is here!"

"Hi, Lauren!" Eddie yells. The words are hardly distinguishable through her large mouthful of lasagna.

A moment later, Lauren Wilcox nudges open Eddie's bedroom door.

"Hey," Eddie says, still chewing. "Did you figure out number 3 yet?"

"No, I need help." Lauren digs out her calculus worksheet, dumps her bookbag on the floor, and climbs onto Eddie's unmade bed. "Is that what you're working on?"

"Nope, I finished the homework. I've been messing with my project equation." Eddie holds up a piece of scrap paper to prove it. "It's not hard, but there are derivatives buried inside derivatives and it's long to write out."

"Who's your partner?"

"Jamie Reagan," Eddie huffs.

"The skinny one who sits up front?"

"Yep."

"Lucky you," Lauren groans. "I'm stuck with Matt. I thought he was smart but we met in study hall yesterday and he's got no idea what he's doing."

"At least you met with him. Jamie's busy, always busy. Like, I've told him for the last three days, I can meet whenever he has time, but he never has time. It's probably easier to get a lunch date with the Queen. So," Eddie sighs, "I guess I'll do the whole thing myself."

"Wow," Lauren says. "Brutal. He doesn't seem like the type to blow off schoolwork."

Eddie shrugs. "I know. But I'm almost done with the math part already, so it's okay." She straightens all her papers and tucks them into her colorful math folder, leaving it on top of the other clutter on her desk. "Oh, do you want some dinner or something? We have lasagna."

Lauren shakes her head. "I don't get how you can eat this close to practice."

"We have an hour and a half," Eddie scoffs. "I could eat two more dinners between now and then."

"Nasty. Just get over here and help me."

Crawling up next to Lauren, Eddie tilts her head to look at her friend's homework. With a quick scan of the neat, compact handwriting she finds the issue. "Right here," she says, pointing. "When you take this limit, multiply by the conjugate. It'll save you all this work."

"Oh. Okay. I can do that." Lauren pauses to think for a minute before she nods and flips the page. "Okay. And number 8? I can't figure out how to use that theorem we're supposed to use."

"Rolle's?"

"Yeah, that."

"That's because you can't."

"Huh?"

"The theorem doesn't apply because the derivative doesn't exist at zero."

"God, I'm never going to remember this," Lauren wails.

"You'll be fine," Eddie says. Pushing up on her hands, she scoots off the bed. "I'll be right back."

In the kitchen, Sofia Janko glances up from the papers neatly organized into six stacks on the large table. "How's the homework going, honey?"

"Fine." Eddie sets her plate in the sink and opens the freezer in one fluid, well-rehearsed motion. "Are we out of ice cream?"

"I told you that you need to cut down on the sweets."

Eddie rolls her eyes and moves two boxes of freezer waffles off the top shelf, revealing her mother's personal stash of Haagen-Dazs. "I do but you don't?"

"That's not yours!" Sofia calls, but Eddie is already halfway back to her bedroom with two spoons and a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough.

"I figured out number 3," Lauren announces when Eddie returns. "Your way is way faster."

"That's because it's the right way. Here."

Lauren accepts the spoon Eddie offers and digs into the ice cream. "So. What're you gonna do about the project?"

"What do you mean, what am I going to do?" As soon as Lauren retracts her hand, Eddie braces the container against her chest and plunges her own spoon inside. "I told you, I'm going to do the project. I already _did_ the project—most of it, anyway. It took me just a couple hours. It's fine."

"No," Lauren says in a tone that makes Eddie's head snap up. More gently, she continues, "You should call him."

Eddie wrinkles her nose. "Why?"

"It's his project too."

"He doesn't seem to care about it."

"Plus he's kind of cute."

"Oh, no," Eddie groans. "You think he's cute, then you call him."

"I'm happy with Eric, thank you very much. But now that I've found love I just want to impart my wisdom and happiness on the younger generation."

"Yeah, well, stop it."

Lauren gives a mirthful grin. "You know I'm right."

"No you're not. I don't think Jamie's my type. And anyway, I've got Craig."

"Craig Douglas? Who you complained about because he won't leave you alone?"

Eddie drops the ice cream carton on her duvet and crosses her arms. "I don't like him bugging me at practice all the time," she says defensively. "But that doesn't mean I don't like him."

"Um, you specifically said, 'Lauren, I don't like him.'"

"I just meant—"

Lauren snatches the ice cream container. "You have to call him—Jamie."

"I thought you couldn't eat before you swim," Eddie snaps, yanking the dessert back. She shoves a huge spoonful into her mouth.

"Don't change the subject. I'm invoking my authority as your captain. You have to call him."

"Your authority as _swim team captain_ doesn't carry into _math class_."

"Fine," Lauren declares. "Where's his number? I'll call him for you."

"What? No. No way. And I don't have his number. He keeps ignoring me, remember?"

"He can't ignore you if you call." Lauren shifts off the bed and leaves the room.

Eddie trails behind her, calling, "I want him to ignore me! I'm fine doing the project alone!"

"Mrs. Janko, do you have the school directory?" Lauren asks.

"Eddie can find it," Sofia says absently.

"I'm not telling you," Eddie taunts.

"Mrs. Janko—"

"Eddie," Sofia scolds. "Lauren, it's in the drawer underneath the phone."

Lauren strides across the kitchen, reaching the drawer before a lunging Eddie can stop her. She easily finds the directory, bound with red cardstock and staples, and flips through to find Jamie's name. Eddie swipes for it but Lauren presses the book into the counter with her elbows and blocks it with her body as she reaches for the phone.

"I'm very busy, girls," Sofia says.

"You have a whole office, Mom," Eddie groans. With Lauren a bit distracted, Eddie yanks the directory out from under her arms and turns to head back to her bedroom. "Come on, Lauren."

"Give that back."

"Shut the door."

Lauren does as she's told before she starts to rearrange the mess on Eddie's desk to find the phone buried somewhere underneath it. "I'll dial, you talk," she declares.

"No. What is this, third grade?"

Relinquishing the phone, Lauren finds Jamie's listing again. "Just want to make sure you don't call, like, Lindsay or someone and fake talking to Jamie."

"Okay, I'm not _that_ desperate to avoid my project partner."

"Just saying, you get jumpy before you talk to cute boys," Lauren shrugs innocently.

"Do not," Eddie says. "And I said—Jamie's not my type."

"Please. You're fifteen. You don't have a type yet."

"Quit acting like you know everything. You're only two years older. What's the number?"

Lauren recites it. Eddie dials and holds the phone up to her ear while her friend watches expectantly.

A pleasant male voice answers. "Hello, Reagans."

"Um, hi. Is Jamie there?"

"Yes. Who's calling?"

"Eddie Janko. From school. I'm—we're partners for a project."

"Sure. One second." Then, distantly, "Jamie! There's a girl on the phone!"

Lauren raises her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. Eddie shrugs at her as she hears some nondescript conversation in the background. Then Jamie says, "Give it, Joe," before the voice announces to her that Jamie's here.

"Hello?"

"Hi. It's Eddie."

"Um, yeah, my brother said. What's going on?"

"We need to talk about the project."

"Right."

"You have free time during break, right? Because we should—we should talk about it in person."

"Yeah, um…"

"I can't really do mornings because of swimming," Eddie says. "But I can do any other time."

"I'll be gone this weekend. There's a debate tournament in Boston."

"Okay. The rest of break?"

"I don't know. I'll be pretty busy with my family."

"Jamie," Eddie snaps, suddenly annoyed. "Shut up with the excuses. We have to do our project. I want that ice cream money."

"It's not an excuse," Jamie insists. "I have to babysit my niece…"

"Great. I'll help you. I'm good with kids. I'll teach her math."

"She's two."

"It's never too soon," Eddie retorts. "How about Monday after lunch? Where do you live? I'll come over."

"Uh, Bay Ridge—"

"Great. Hey, what are you bringing for the Christmas party tomorrow?"

"What?"

"What're you bringing for Ms. Chapple's Christmas party?"

"Oh. My mom made cupcakes."

"From scratch or a box?"

"Wh—from scratch. Why does it mat—"

"Perfect. See you then. Bye, Jamie."


	3. Chapter 3

_Monday_

Fat snowflakes float past the living room window, building up into a picturesque Christmassy scene outside. But Jamie, hunched over the coffee table in concentration, doesn't notice. He rushes to finish the last few steps of this derivative before his partner gets here. If he shows her that the tough part is done, he can push her right back out the door and they can shelve this whole thing for three weeks until they need to plan their presentation. If she really wants to contribute, he can pretend to take her input for that part—but he's the one who wins prizes for his public speaking skills, so even there he'll have to make sure everything is up to his standards. Those extra credit points aren't going to earn themselves.

Jamie tries to shut out the giggly shushing coming from the staircase, but it gets louder and finally he looks up. "I'm trying to work here," he grumbles.

"Relax, kid," says his brother-in-law, Jack Boyle, as he skips over the bottom steps. "Take a break."

"Come sledding with us!" Erin urges. "Joe's coming. And Nicky's napping."

"Which means it's _real_ sledding," Jack says.

"Can you wait for me? My math partner is coming over but it shouldn't take long."

"How long?" Erin asks.

"We don't have tons of time, buddy," Jack adds.

"I don't know, half an hour?"

"Fine, we can wait," Erin sighs. "I'll make some hot chocolate, Jack."

Jamie glances at his watch—Eddie should be here any minute—and returns his focus to the math in front of him. He's meticulously working through the last step ten minutes later when the doorbell rings.

"Sorry I'm late," Eddie says when he opens the door. She kicks the threshold to knock the snow off her boots and walks in without waiting for an invitation. "I didn't know how long it'd take to walk here from the subway."

"Did you get off at 77th?"

"No, 86th."

"It's a quicker walk from 77th, even though it looks a little further," Jamie tells her.

Eddie toes off her boots and piles her coat, hat, and scarf on top of them next to the front door. "Oh."

"Jamie? Who's here?"

Jamie turns to see his mother descending the stairs. "My math partner, Mom," he says.

"Yes, of course," Mary Margaret says, holding out a hand. "Hello, sweetheart, I'm Mrs. Reagan."

"Eddie Janko. Nice to meet you."

"You need anything while you're here, you just ask me or Jamie, got it? Goodness, the snow has picked up out there. Let me hang these up…" She takes Eddie's winter clothes off the floor and disappears into the house. Jamie knows she's going to toss her wet things in the dryer so she won't catch a cold when she goes back out.

"Okay," Eddie says, swinging her arms to clasp her hands in front of her. "Let's do some math. I already—"

"I'm done taking the derivative," Jamie interrupts. "We just need to plug in to find the maxes and mins. Did you bring your calculator?"

Eddie kneels to dig through her backpack. "Duh." She pulls out a tie-dye folder overflowing with loose-leaf paper and smacks it onto the coffee table. "Let me see what you have."

She helps herself to Jamie's spiral notebook and flips back a page to find the beginning. Jamie frowns over her shoulder as she skims an index finger across his work. He eases himself onto the couch as she keeps reading, lips pursed, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Tell me why you did this," she says a minute later, pointing to the paper.

Jamie leans forward to look. If she already needs help this is going to be a long afternoon. "Um, because to get from here to here, you—"

"You have to use the chain rule _inside_ the product rule," Eddie says. "This is wrong."

Before Jamie can process her correction, Eddie rifles through her folder and comes up with two loose papers. "Look," she tells him. "This is what it should be."

She reclaims his notebook and keeps reading as Jamie looks over her work. He's surprised that she did any work at all—but as he finds the spot where he made his mistake, he realizes that she's right. After that each step of the monstrous equation looks different on her paper.

But he does note one particular discrepancy. "You have to use the quotient rule for this term."

Eddie doesn't even look. "I hate the quotient rule. If you turn it into the product rule it's not as gross."

Squinting, Jamie concentrates to figure out what she did.

"Alright," Eddie sighs. She sets Jamie's notebook on the table. "Since you've got some mistakes, we'll use my version to find maxes and mins. Did you get 1.25, 7.4, twelve, and 18.13 as the local extremes?"

"What?" Jamie says stupidly. "I—I didn't get that far. How did you find those?"

"Graphed it on my calculator. So I already know which ones are maxes and mins but we have to show that we did the first derivative test, so you take the first two and I'll do the second ones."

She opens her graphing calculator and gets to work, clacking away at the buttons before Jamie even knows what's happening. Not only has Eddie already done the work—she caught _his_ mistakes. She's—she's good at math?

They work in silence for a few minutes—well, Eddie works. She's a flurry of activity, punching her calculator, scribbling diagonally across her paper, looking back at her old work to make sure she's on track. It distracts Jamie and he watches, lost in his vague musings about whether Eddie's constant chatter in math class is because she needs help from her friends or because _they_ can't do it without _her_.

"Jamie, did you offer your guest something to drink?"

Jamie looks up from the paper he's been blankly staring at. Mary Margaret stands over the table and Jamie knows by the subtle flick of her eyebrows that she isn't happy to find him on the couch while Eddie sits cross-legged on the floor. "Are you thirsty or anything?" he manages.

"I know it's late for lunch but we've got some good ham if you want a sandwich," his mother adds.

Eddie's eyes light up as she tries unsuccessfully to bite back the smile that spreads across her face. "Yeah, I could eat."

"Come on then, sweetie. A quick break doesn't hurt, right?"

Jamie wants to protest—Eddie's already been here longer than the thirty-minute estimate he gave Erin and Jack—but Eddie jumps up and trails Mary into the kitchen before he gets the chance. With a sigh, he promises to follow in a minute as he hurries to finish the calculation he's working on.

By the time he joins them, Eddie is biting into a thick ham and cheese sandwich at the table. Mary rinses a cutting board in the sink, facing away from Erin and Jack as she talks to them.

"I thought you knew that was why I offered to keep Nicky for the afternoon," Mary sighs.

"I'm sorry—we forgot," Erin says.

"We were just going to take the afternoon for a little fun," Jack cuts in.

Mary Margaret turns, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. "Not today you're not. When I ask you to do something, I expect you to do it. Mrs. Bartholomew is expecting you both. She's looking forward to it. I won't have you disappointing her."

Erin scowls, obviously irritated at the idea of spending her childfree afternoon visiting the Reagan children's old cancer-stricken piano teacher. Jack lays a hand on the small of her back. "We'll go sledding tomorrow," he says. "The snow isn't going anywhere."

"Jamie, you should go too," Mary says, noticing him for the first time. "It might be your last chance to see her. She still asks about you, you know. She'd love it."

Jamie frowns thoughtfully. He has no interest in seeing Mrs. Bartholomew. He only took lessons from her for about a year, which is nothing compared to his sister's eight, and he hasn't seen her since Erin's wedding. He's honestly surprised to hear she remembers him. But it's an excuse to take a break from this project, let his brain catch up to Eddie's so that he isn't left in the dust again.

There's a thought he never thought he'd have.

"You should come, Jamie," Erin says. She's begging. Jamie is sure she prefers to drag as many people as possible so this visit isn't so painful.

He meets Eddie's eyes, icy blue and dangerous, as she waits to see whether their first real attempt to work together will be cut short. He doesn't expect the little pang of guilt that stabs him in the gut and he has to look away with a hard swallow.

Mary Margaret makes the decision for him. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she says to Eddie. "You'll have to finish up later."

"It's okay," Eddie mumbles.

"Go on, get going before it gets any later." Mary Margaret spreads her arms and herds Jamie, Erin and Jack out of the kitchen.

Jamie takes one last peek at Eddie as she polishes off her sandwich. This steely, irritated glint still shines in her eyes. He knows he'll have to deal with her later. But for now, he notes with a sigh of relief, she's not his problem.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _To the reviewer who asked why I'm making Jamie and Eddie do a math project…bro, I've got a degree in math. It's my favorite. And I swear I'm trying to keep mathy talk to a minimum, so you'll just have to deal. I promise, the Jamko cuteness picks up soon!_

* * *

 _Tuesday_

The squeak of the locker room door startles Eddie out of her cream cheese frosting induced trance. She backs all the way into the corner of the locker bay until she feels the cold metal against her bare back. If a coach—or worse, one of the lifeguards—catches her eating in here she can kiss her cupcake goodbye.

Her head tips back with relief as Lauren and another teammate, Alicia, round the corner.

"There you are!" Lauren says. "The hell are you doing? Aren't you coming to the movie?"

"Can't." Eddie swipes a thumb across her lower lip to catch a glop of frosting. "Gotta go to Jamie's."

"I thought that was yesterday."

"It was. But we have more to do today."

"Come on," Lauren whines. "That thing's not due for three weeks. It's break! Do something fun!"

Eddie has to admit it's tempting to blow Jamie off the way he did to her last week. But she suspects that if she doesn't show up today, he'll start with the stupid excuses again and she'll be stuck. Plus, well, she likes his mom. Mary Reagan sent Eddie home yesterday with four leftover cupcakes that didn't make it to the calculus Christmas party, kind of a severance prize for forcing the change in plans. No way Eddie will pass up a chance for more.

"You know what's fun?" Eddie says finally. "Cupcakes. Not seeing _A Bug's Life_ for the third time."

A glance at the clock tells her that she's wasted enough time in here. Outside the coast should be clear. So she pulls a hoodie over her sports bra and yanks her favorite yellow hat over her wet hair.

"I'll buy you whatever you want at the movies," Alicia says.

Eddie slings her swim bag over her shoulder and starts toward the door. "Sorry. I can't."

She doesn't miss her friends' suspicious whispers beside her but she chooses to ignore them. The humidity of the locker room gives way to the cool air of the rec center's main hallway and the girls head for the lobby.

"You all got plans today? Eddie?"

Eddie tries not to roll her eyes as she turns around to see Craig Douglas standing up from a bench against the wall. Her strategy of hiding out in the locker room for an extra ten minutes didn't work.

"Busy all day, Craig. Sorry."

His face falls. Eddie has to admit he's not bad looking—tall, remarkably tan for the middle of winter, muscular swimmer's build. But he's ruined his chances by getting on her nerves at every Barracudas practice since September.

"Another time," Eddie says. "Will you be at the Princeton meet?"

"No," Craig says sadly.

"Aw, that's too bad."

"Hey, uh, do you need a ride home?"

"No thanks. Lauren's driving me."

"Oh. See you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah, see ya."

Eddie leads the way out the door and all three girls explode into giggles as soon as they're out of Craig's earshot. "You're so _mean_ ," Alicia says. "You know he didn't qualify for Princeton."

"Yeah—why do you think I said it? Now I'm totally off the hook."

"Until he asks if you want to hang out tomorrow."

" _Oh, sorry, I really have to go home and rest up._ _ **I'm**_ _going to the invitational at Princeton this weekend_ ," Eddie says airily. "Easy peasy."

"Just tell him to leave you alone!"

"She won't. She likes the attention," Lauren tells Alicia.

"Do not," Eddie argues, earning dramatic eye rolls from her teammates. "I can't stand him."

"You go back and forth on him every two days," Lauren says. She slows her pace as they approach her car. "I'm not really driving you home, by the way. The movie starts at noon."

"I know," Eddie sings. "I'll see you tomorrow." And with a grin she continues on to the subway.

* * *

Eddie is used to early morning workouts with the Barracudas, not this eight-to-eleven school break business. And the school swim team, which typically practices late at night during the winter sports season, is completely canceled this week. She doesn't know if it's the extra sleep or the cutback to her usual hours in the pool, but she's full of extra energy.

Or—maybe it's that the sun is out for the first time in days. Or the awesome bagel creation she made for herself when she stopped at home. Or the promise of another ham sandwich as big as her head, courtesy of Jamie's mom.

Whatever it is, she's in a great mood as she walks up Jamie's street.

She bounces on her toes as she waits for somebody to get the door. She doesn't recognize the tall, angular college kid who answers, except that he looks sort of like Jamie. But when he says hello, she matches his distinct voice to the one that answered her phone call last week.

"Is Jamie here?" Eddie says. "I'm here to work on homework."

"Jamie!" the boy shouts over his shoulder. "There's a girl at the door!"

Eddie brushes past him as he waits for a response. A moment later, rushing footsteps thump down the stairs. Jamie yanks himself to a halt with a hand on the banister and draws in a deep breath like sprinting down here is the most strenuous exercise he's ever managed. Eddie smirks at the thought.

"It's just Eddie, Joe," he says. "We have a project together."

"Ah, a _project_ ," Joe says with an intentional flick of his eyebrows. "Alright, Jamie. I'll leave you to it then."

"It's for _school_!" Jamie calls, but Joe just grins as he rounds the corner into the kitchen. Jamie groans, embarrassed, as he turns back to Eddie. "So, uh, that's my brother Joe. Sorry about him."

But Joe didn't bother Eddie at all. She just giggles as Jamie wonders aloud if they should work in the living room or set up camp at the dining room table. And instead of answering, she marches straight to the dining room.

"I think we can get this mostly done today," Eddie says. "I mean, unless you've got more flute teachers to visit or whatever."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Quit saying sorry. It's annoying."

She shakes her head, entertained by the way he bites his lip to keep from apologizing yet again. As much as she insists to Lauren that Jamie isn't attractive, she can't deny that he's at least a little bit cute. To be honest, she's secretly thought so since the beginning of the school year.

Jamie's mother appears as they organize themselves at the dining room table. With a smile she delivers the ham sandwich that she promised yesterday after Jamie left, and she backs Eddie up when she gripes at Jamie for swiping a potato chip off the plate.

Eddie likes this house more and more.

She eats as they both work. It's a pleasant surprise that Jamie went over his work and corrected the mistakes she pointed out yesterday. He's on the same page as Eddie now, so they easily collaborate to analyze their equation, finding the times of heaviest and lightest traffic flow at their assigned intersection. After a couple hours of work, not counting Eddie's cupcake break halfway through, they finish the biggest section of the project.

"Alright," Eddie says, triumphantly clicking her calculator cover back in place. "That's all for that part. I think everything looks right."

Jamie nods in agreement. "Um, yeah, I think so. Can you hand me that?"

Eddie passes him the assignment packet and he flips to the page with the instructions. "Yep, that's all for Part 1," he confirms. "Part 2 is figuring out a way to improve traffic flow and Part 3 is basically doing Part 1 over with the idea from Part 2. So…do you want to start that?"

"Hmmm." She glances over the packet and pretends to contemplate, though she already knows she's ready for a break. "No. Let's start on Part 4."

"You want to start the write-up? Before we do 2 and 3?"

"Yep! Easier to do it as we go. But first, I want a snack. You mind if I look in your fridge?"

She gets up without waiting for his answer. He follows and leans against the island, regarding her with a mixture of intrigue and confusion. "Do you ever stop eating?"

Eddie scowls as she rips open a string cheese with her teeth. "Yeah, when I'm full."

"So…do you ever get full?"

She considers for a second as she chews. "Nope. Never. Isn't there one more cupcake left?"


	5. Chapter 5

Eddie isn't quite sure how she ended up in the Reagans' kitchen filling nine glasses with water, but if this is the price she pays for a homemade meal tonight, she isn't complaining.

"That's great, honey. Joe will take those to the table," Mary says. "Come with me and we'll check on those pants of yours."

Eddie follows her to the laundry room, where the dryer continues to rumble loudly thirty minutes after Eddie came in from making a snowman with Nicky. Mary stops the machine and reaches inside, frowning. "Still pretty damp, I'm afraid."

"I'm happy in sweats," Eddie assures her. She'd be happier in her _own_ sweats rather than a borrowed pair of Jamie's that are rolled twice at the hips and about five times at each ankle, but anything is better than freezing, snow-soaked jeans.

Mary returns to the kitchen but Eddie peels off to check on Jamie in the computer room. He's been dealing with an unfortunate computer crash that came half an hour into their attempt to type all their work. That's when Eddie took the baby outside to play in the snow—after all, the project directions say they can choose between typing the solution or just writing it neatly, and _Jamie's_ the one who insists they use the computer. If it were up to her, they'd just rewrite their scratch work and be done with it.

"Did you fix it?"

Startled, Jamie jumps and grabs for the desk to regain his balance in the huge swiveling office chair. "Uh, yeah. It's working and we didn't lose too much. I already caught back up to where we were."

"We could be finished with _all_ of it by now," she says.

"I thought you wanted to win," Jamie replies. "We can't cut corners if we want to win."

"It's not cutting corners. We're getting judged on our presentation, not on the way we turn in the solution."

"I still want to type it."

With an eye roll and a groan, Eddie slumps into the extra chair so it at least _looks_ like Jamie isn't the only one working. Luckily it's not long before a huge man appears in the doorway.

"Dinner's almost ready, son," he says. "Take a break. Go see if your mother needs any more help."

"One minute, Dad—just let me finish…"

"Now, Jamie. And would you care to introduce me to your friend?"

Jamie sighs and saves his progress. "Um, yeah. This is Eddie. We're project partners."

"Nice to meet you, Eddie. I hope you're making yourself at home."

Eddie shakes Frank's hand as his sternness gives way to a jovial smile that offsets his intimidating frame. His heavy footsteps lead the way into the kitchen, where Mary is just pulling the meatloaf out of the oven.

"Jamie, take some salad dressings to the table. Ask Eddie what kind she likes," Mary directs.

Eddie backs up against a countertop where she hopes she'll be out of the way. Joe and his friend Jason dart in and out, carrying dishes to the dining room, while Jamie's oldest brother Danny scoops mashed potatoes into a serving bowl. Erin chops carrots for the salad. Next to her Jack makes sure their daughter doesn't fall off the counter as she transfers individual slices to the salad bowl.

"Hey. New girl. Come help me, wouldja?"

"Me?" Eddie says.

"Yes, you," Danny says. "Hold this so I can get it all."

Eddie obediently holds the potato pot still as Mary scolds him. "She has a name, Daniel."

"What? I just figure Jamie's turning into mini Joe, bringing home a different girl every other day."

"That's not true!" Joe shouts from the next room.

Mary cuts him a look. "Danny."

"No Linda tonight, son?" Frank asks.

"She's working."

"So that's why you're here," Erin teases. "Heaven forbid you make your own dinner."

"Yeah? Why are _you_ here?" Danny retorts.

"Mom watched Nicky so we could go sledding."

Frank cuts them off before Danny can say anything else, and everyone shifts into the dining room. Eddie finds herself between Jamie and Joe as Frank graces the meal, and then meatloaf and mashed potatoes and broccoli and salad make their way around the table.

Eddie lands on the hot seat as soon as dinner starts. "So Eddie," Frank says, "you and Jamie go to school together?"

"Yes."

"She's in my calculus class," Jamie elaborates.

"Nerds," Danny mutters.

"Hey, just because you couldn't pass Algebra 2—" Jamie snaps.

"Boys," Mary admonishes.

Frank turns back to Eddie. "Are you a junior as well?"

"No, a sophomore."

"Wow. Super nerd over here," Danny says.

"I'd rather be a nerd who's good at math than fail algebra twice," Eddie shoots back.

"Stand up for yourself like that and you'll fit in around here just fine," Frank chuckles. "You have lots of brothers and sisters at home? You must, if this crowd doesn't scare you off."

"I'm an only child."

"Oh really? What do your parents do?"

"My dad's in finance and my mom's a realtor," Eddie explains.

Joe's friend Jason lets out a groan. "My dad thinks I should major in something financial but it sounds so boring."

"How _are_ things down in Pittsburgh, Jason?" Frank asks. "If not finance, any other ideas for a major?"

"Probably communication," Jason says.

"I talked to your mom at church the other week," Mary shares. "She says you're delivering pizzas down there, making a little money. I keep telling Joe he should look for a job like that. He just doesn't get enough hours giving tours at John Jay."

"I don't have _time_ for more hours, Mom," Joe says.

Eddie leans forward to look at Jason around Joe. "Do you get free pizza all the time?"

As Jason gives an affirmative nod, Joe nudges him with an elbow. "You have to tell the upside down story."

"Oh God, that was ridiculous," Jason says. "So I take a pizza to this guy who's definitely high or something. It's fine, he's nice, he gives me a good tip, and I go to a couple more deliveries. And then my boss calls me, all upset, and he tells me to drop everything and come back to the store because that guy got a plain crust, nothing on it, and we have to replace it. So I go back, pick up another pizza, and when I get back to the guy's house he just laughs and says he opened the first pizza upside down."

Eddie and Danny respond at the same moment—"Did he get to keep the extra pizza?" she says, as he asks whether the customer gave another tip. Everyone at the table bursts out laughing at their reactions.

"No, I'm serious!" Eddie cries over the noise. "What did you do with the extra pizza?"

She scowls when, instead of an answer, she just gets more laughter. But really, she likes this—the good food, the easy chatter, the way Jamie soon blushes in embarrassment as his siblings tease him for caring more about bonus points than ice cream. It's just so different from what she's used to—conversationless dinners with her parents at corner tables in fancy restaurants, or, when the housekeeper cooks, eating alone in her room because her mother won't let her near the kitchen table while she works.

This is much more fun.

The conversation circles back to Eddie. "You said your mom's a realtor?" Mary asks. "Did you hear that, Erin? If you're still looking to move soon…"

"Not until I've got a definite job offer, Mom," Erin replies.

Eddie's more interested in her second helping of meatloaf than in Erin's attempts to get her foot in the door at the Manhattan DA's office. She does laugh, though, when it comes out that several prestigious firms are recruiting her and Danny responds by calling her a nerd. That jab earns him solo cleanup duty, which he protests adamantly until Mary threatens to saddle him with Sunday dinner cleanup for all of 1999. It works and soon Danny is clearing the table.

"You live in Park Slope, right, Eddie?" Erin says. "Jack and I can drop you on our way home."

"Yeah, thanks. That'd be great."

"We have to go soon, though, get this little lady in bed."

Eddie nods. "That's fine—I'm ready."

Jamie catches her attention with a tap of the back of his hand on her arm. "When do you want to finish the project?"

"My grandparents get here tomorrow and then it's Christmas. So I don't know. We'll figure it out this weekend."

"Okay, yeah," Jamie says. "Um, I'll finish typing everything we've done."

"Good idea."

Mary Margaret saves them from a potentially awkward silence as she hugs Eddie goodbye and thanks her for entertaining Nicky after naptime. The toddler is exhausted, as evidenced by the way she conks out as soon as they get in Jack's car, so the ride home is quiet. It gives Eddie a chance to process the day—because from Craig at swim practice this morning to Reagan family dinner, it's been a long one.

It isn't until she gets into her apartment and gets some ice cream that she notices she's still wearing Jamie's sweatpants. She never got her jeans out of the Reagans' dryer.

With an unbothered shrug, she finds a sappy Christmas movie on TV and settles into the couch.


	6. Chapter 6

_Sunday_

 _Hello, you've reached the Janko residence. Please leave a message and we'll return your call as soon as we can._

Jamie hangs up the phone—again—and lets his head fall back against the office chair.

Yesterday afternoon he left a message, something like _It's the weekend now, like you said, so when are you coming over to finish the project?_ But it's gone unanswered, just like the three additional calls he's made throughout today.

It's irritating. Eddie's exact words ring in his head: _We'll figure it out this weekend_. But the weekend is rapidly draining away, and he hasn't heard from her since she left his house five days ago. He's enjoyed a nice Christmas with his family, he's finished typing up all the work they've done so far… he's ready to get the rest of the project over with.

That's what he tells himself, at least, and it's what he told his mother earlier today when she asked why he won't just take a break and wait for Eddie to call back. "She's probably spending time with her family, like you should be doing," she said. "She'll call back tomorrow."

But Mary Margaret doesn't know the entire situation.

Eddie has been relentlessly on his mind since that second meeting. He can't really explain why. He looked for her at midnight mass on Christmas, even though he's never seen her at church before, because maybe her family would be there for the holiday. He opened his gifts the next morning and found himself wondering what she asked for. He doesn't claim to know a whole lot about her but he thinks it's a fair guess that Christmas dinner is, to her, the most important present.

She was so determined a week ago. It makes him wonder if her current silence means that he—well, their project—has fallen off her priority list.

That idea doesn't sit well for some reason.

Sunday dinner doesn't really happen tonight. The house has been busy all week with family and friends constantly in and out, but Danny and Linda are working and Jack, Erin, and Nicky left yesterday for a second Christmas with Jack's family. So Jamie eats leftovers with his parents and spends the rest of the evening trying to distract himself from his urgent desire to call Eddie's house again.

* * *

 _Monday_

"Jamie! Phone!"

Jamie marks the page in his book and heaves himself off his bed. It's been a long morning of nothing as he waits until it's time to meet up with Thomas and a few other friends for tonight's Knicks game. He figures it's Thomas on the phone as he goes downstairs to get it.

"Jamie's right here," Mary says when she sees him. "Yes, of course—thank you so much. Here he is."

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Jamie?"

"Yes?"

"My name is Danijela. I am Janko family's housekeeper."

Jamie frowns in confusion but he's not about to be impolite with his mother still in the room. "Oh. Hi."

"I am calling to return message you left on Janko family's machine," the woman says. Between her accent and the garbly phone, Jamie has to concentrate to understand her. "Edit is not home. Edit is at swim meet in New Jersey. But I can give you hotel phone number."

Jamie's brow furrows at the way she pronounces Eddie's name with a _t_ at the end but he chalks it up to the accent and moves on. "Oh—oh, you can? Thanks. That'd be great."

Danijela recites the number as Jamie scribbles it on a nearby notepad. It's a relief to know that there's a valid reason behind the communication lapse but it doesn't tell him why Eddie said they'd talk this weekend when she knew that wasn't true.

"Do you know when Eddie will be back?" Jamie asks once he has the number down.

"Eddie will return—" _Tuesday and Wednesday_? The housekeeper's answer doesn't make sense, or maybe Jamie just doesn't hear it right, but he doesn't ask for clarification. Instead he thanks her and hangs up.

* * *

"Did you get the movie from your mom?" Eddie asks as she keys into the hotel room.

"Right here." Lauren digs into her purse and comes up with the rented copy of _When Harry Met Sally_. "But I need a shower first."

"Go ahead. Alicia's in 342, right?"

"Think so," Lauren says, disappearing into the bathroom as Eddie goes to get a bag of popcorn from her suitcase.

The microwave next to the ice machine has a handwritten note taped to it— _do not Leave Food unatended_ —but given the misspelling, Eddie decides it's more of a suggestion than a rule. She leaves the popcorn cooking as she cheerfully gallivants down the hall to the room Alicia shares with her parents and sister. Her younger sister chooses not to join them, so it's just Eddie and Alicia as they pick up the popcorn and return to Eddie and Lauren's room.

They sit on Eddie's bed and dissect the first two days of the Princeton Short Course Holiday Jamboree Invitational. This meet is a big deal and they're competing against top swimmers from all over the Northeast. Eddie's preliminary races were enough to qualify her for semi-finals in two events and Alicia is moving on in one. Lauren's biggest event is tomorrow morning. And the relay team consisting of Eddie, Lauren, Alicia, and Grace Wu has a good chance of winning tomorrow afternoon.

Lauren emerges from the bathroom and gets settled as Eddie pops the tape into the TV. The girls share the popcorn in the dim light of the hotel room and make it through the first twenty minutes of the movie before the phone rings on the nightstand between the two beds.

The sound scares Lauren and she swears loudly as popcorn scatters across Eddie's bed.

"Hey!" Eddie yelps. She grabs a handful of kernels and throws them onto Lauren's bed in retaliation. "What's your problem?"

Lauren calms herself with a deep breath. "Answer it. It's probably your parents, right?"

Eddie groans at the inconvenience of the call that comes nightly when her parents don't accompany her to faraway swim meets—though she figures it's Danijela since her parents are in Vegas and the housekeeper does everything Sofia and Armin don't have time to take care of personally, like checking in on their daughter.

"Pause the movie," she says, and she climbs over Alicia to get to the phone. She answers in Serbian, " _Zdravo._ "

"Um, hello?"

Eddie's face crinkles in confusion. It's definitely _not_ the woman she's affectionately called _Tetka_ , Auntie, since childhood. "Hello? Who's this?"

"Sorry, I think I've got the wrong—"

" _Jamie_?"


	7. Chapter 7

Eddie says his name before it even occurs to her to hide his identity from her friends. She tries to swallow the unexpected swoopy feeling in her gut, processing the shock on Lauren's face as Jamie asks in her ear, "Eddie? Is that you?"

"Um, yeah." Eddie scowls and scoots away from her friends as they move in to eavesdrop. Lauren whispers something to Alicia, probably making something up about how Eddie is _in love_ with her partner. "How—how'd you know to call here?"

"I left a message at your house," Jamie says. "And your, um, housekeeper called back and told me where you are."

"I'm at Princeton for a swim meet."

"I thought school sports don't compete over Christmas," Jamie says.

"They don't. I'm on two swim teams, Jamie," she explains impatiently. "You know, like, there are kids on the _school_ basketball team and they also play _travel_ basketball? That's like this. Two teams, totally separate."

"Right," he says slowly. "But really, a meet right after Christmas?"

"It's a _Christmas_ meet, you dummy," she giggles. "They play Christmas music—they give us Santa hats to wear over our swim caps when we walk out to the blocks."

"Oh. Sounds like fun, I guess."

Eddie thrashes her legs to push Lauren away as she tries to sneak even closer, and she fights to keep her voice neutral. "Yeah, it is—God, Alicia, stop!" She almost drops the phone as she rolls sideways to evade Alicia's pokes at her waist. "Sorry," she says to Jamie. "My friends are being idiots."

"It's okay," Jamie chuckles softly. "So, um—I was just calling to see when you're getting home, because I think we should try to meet one more time before school starts back. You know, finish the project, so we don't have to worry about it with midterms and everything."

"Yeah, good idea." Eddie swats Lauren's hand away as she tries to stick a piece of popcorn in her ear. "I'll probably make the 200 breaststroke final on Wednesday, so—"

"Jamie!" Alicia shouts. Across the room, by Eddie's suitcase, she holds up the pair of gray sweats Eddie wore home from Jamie's house last week. "Eddie stole your pants! And she sleeps in them and she's worn them before every race and she says you're her good luck charm—"

Eddie clutches the phone against her chest to hopefully mute the noise. She feels the heat rising in her cheeks as she hisses, "Stop! I did _not_ say that—I just said they're comfortable—" With a furious huff she presses the handset back against her ear. "Sorry about that," she says, her tone as sweet as she can manage. "So. I'll definitely be home by Wednesday night. I can come over on Thursday…?"

"New Years Eve?" Lauren cries.

"So you can kiss him at midnight!" Alicia adds.

Eddie blocks them out with a finger in her opposite ear. On Jamie's end, the background noise has escalated enough that it distracts her when he confirms that Thursday will work. "Where are you?" she asks. "I can barely hear."

"Yeah, sorry, I'm on a payphone at Madison Square Garden. It's, uh, it's halftime."

She feels her eyes go wide at the knowledge that he's calling from the Knicks game. It thrills her a little that he'd do something like that but she knows she'll never hear the end of it if her friends find out, so she tries to play it down. "Really?" she says, holding back a laugh. "Seems like a lot of effort, don't you think? You couldn't just…wait?"

"Well, if I called after this game I figured you would be asleep or something."

"Until _tomorrow_ ," Eddie specifies.

"I, um," Jamie stammers. Eddie bites her lip to hide her smirk from her expectant teammates. "I wanted to call sooner. To make sure we had plenty of time to plan ahead—for when we'd meet. For the project."

"The project," Eddie repeats, loudly, so maybe Lauren will stop leaning in to hear. "Yeah. Well, unless I do really shitty tomorrow and don't make finals, I won't be home till Wednesday. So Thursday's good."

"Has it been good so far?" Jamie asks. "The meet, I mean."

It's an odd, but not unwelcome, surprise to hear Jamie asking about her swim meet. "Really good, yeah," she says. "My relay team, we had the second-fastest prelim time today so we've got a good shot at gold tomorrow."

"Cool. But—you, like, all have to wear Santa hats for your race?"

"Not while we _swim_ ," Eddie laughs. "Just before the race starts."

Jamie chuckles through the phone. "That sounds like a really weird swim meet."

"It's great. This is one of my favorite meets," Eddie says. By now Lauren and Alicia are making kissy faces near her head so Eddie slides off the bed and onto the floor. When they follow, she stretches out on her stomach and protects her head with her free arm. "It makes it a lighter atmosphere, you know? More fun."

"It just sounds weird," Jamie maintains, "like you're making this up to make me fall for something."

"I'm not!" Eddie cries. "I'll prove it. You know Lauren, in our math class? Her mom's been taking tons of pictures at the pool. I'll show you."

"Okay. Yeah. I need proof." She can hear the smile in his voice, like it's taking all his effort not to laugh at the absurdity of Santa hats at a swim meet.

"Alright. I'll bring it on Thursday." Feeling fingers tracing along the sole of her bare foot, Eddie kicks into the air and knocks Lauren's arm away. "I have to go. You know, rest up so I swim fast tomorrow."

"Um, yeah, me too. The third quarter's about to start. Uh, good luck with the rest of your Santa swim meet."

"Thanks," Eddie giggles. "I'll bring home a gold or two. No problem."

"You better. I can't be partners with a loser," Jamie teases.

"You aren't. I'm a winner, Jamie Reagan."

He laughs a little. "Alright. Call when you get home and we'll decide a time for Thursday."

"Yep, I will. Bye, Jamie."

"Bye, Jamie! Eddie loves you!" Lauren and Alicia screech.

Eddie scrambles off the floor to hang up as quickly as she can, hoping he didn't hear them. That strange warm feeling from the phone call is gone now and she turns on them, irritated. "You guys need to cut it out," she groans.

"Eddie and Jamie," Alicia sings, "sitting in a tree—"

"You don't even _know_ Jamie!" Eddie cries. "You don't go to our school!"

"I showed him to her in last year's yearbook," Lauren announces.

"He's cute," Alicia nods. "I don't know why you're not going for it."

"But she is!" Lauren teases. "New Years Eve, Jamie Reagan's basement…"

Eddie rolls her eyes. "We're doing a _project_ , you guys, and the Reagans' basement is just, like, storage and stuff. Nobody goes down there."

Lauren howls with laughter. "You know what's in his basement? God, Eddie, give it up already. You like him. You're an awful liar."

Adopting the most defiant face she can manage, Eddie crosses her arms. "I asked," she sniffs. "I don't know a lot of people with basements."

Alicia picks up the sweatpants she discarded on top of Eddie's open suitcase. "You've worn these all weekend," she points out. "You usually wear your Barracudas pants."

"It's not like it's a rule we have to wear team sweats," Eddie justifies.

"So wear your team sweats tomorrow," Lauren dares.

Eddie has to gnaw on her bottom lip to consider for a moment. She gets a funny little satisfaction from wearing Jamie's absconded pants and it's not that she's superstitious, exactly, but she _has_ worn them all weekend and she's had some really great swims.

"I PR'd by a full second in the 200," she tries. "Those pants are lucky or something. Can't change it up before semifinals tomorrow."

" _He_ likes _you_ ," Lauren says. "Definitely. He tracked down how to talk to you in Jersey…"

"And your face, Eddie," Alicia says. "You're happy he did."

"No—I just want to win the math contest," Eddie insists. "I want free ice cream."

A low, evil laugh emanates from deep in Lauren's chest. "Please. Your parents could buy the whole damn ice cream store if you asked," she says. "So come on. I need to hear you say it."

"Just once," Alicia says.

"Once and we'll stop bothering you," Lauren declares. "Admit you like Jamie."

Eddie sighs and drops to the edge of her bed. She picks a stray piece of popcorn off the sheet before she answers.

"Fine," she groans. "I think, maybe, I kind of like him."


	8. Chapter 8

_Thursday_

"What if we do something like a ferry, but it's a crane?"

"A ferry with a crane?" Jamie says.

"Yeah!" Eddie grins and leans to grab a pencil from the floor in front of her. "Look. It's like this, and you drive onto a platform and it lifts you over the intersection and more cars go through!"

Jamie feels his brow furrow as she sketches something in his math notebook, which rests against her knee. A moment later she holds up the page to show him a crude drawing of something that resembles a construction crane with a big square thing hanging from the arm.

"What _is_ that?"

"It's how we get more cars through the intersection!" Eddie says. "They don't have to wait for the light to change. They just, like, whoosh! Fly over the other cars."

Jamie lets out a skeptical huff. "So a _bridge_? An overpass?"

Eddie makes a face as if she's never heard anything so ridiculous. "No, not a bridge," she scoffs. "That's so normal. A flying ferry!"

"A flying ferry. Where's it going to go? In the middle of the street?"

"No, just, like, on the corner. It's perfect!"

 _Perfect_ isn't the word Jamie would choose. Eddie can't _really_ think that some kind of crane contraption is an acceptable answer to Part 2 of their project. But they have all day so Jamie decides to play along.

"So," he smirks, "the stoplight goes one way and the—the _flying ferry_ lifts cars over the other way?"

Excitement flashes in Eddie's blue eyes and Jamie's stomach drops so fast he hardly hears her when she talks again. "Exactly! So you have both directions going at once! And it'll be easy to add into the equation. We can just make something up. Like, the flying ferry moves a thousand cars an hour—"

"A thousand cars an hour?" Jamie cries. "How fast does this thing move?"

"As fast as we want! How big is a parking spot, ten feet by twenty? So on a platform that's a hundred by a hundred, you fit fifty cars. If the whole process, loading and flying and unloading, takes four or five minutes—"

She stops short and raises her eyebrows at Jamie. He's just sitting there incredulously, impressed by her quick mental math, trying to catch up.

"Twelve one-way trips an hour," Eddie continues after taking a breath. "Fifty cars per trip—okay, so 600 cars every hour. Not a thousand, but that's a pretty good difference, Jamie."

"Yeah," he concedes, humoring her. "600 cars an hour. Not bad. It would help." He takes his notebook from her and flips a few pages back from her drawing to find the data they worked out last week. "But let's think about this. We know there's one lane in each direction and…about 1800 cars per hour at the busiest times of day. So we add another lane and we double the number of cars just like that. Easy. We're done."

Eddie's chin drops and she makes a face. "What? No. That's so boring."

"But it's effective," Jamie argues. "And it's actually _practical_."

"We aren't trying to be practical. We're trying to be creative!"

"What's the point of fixing the problem if the way you want to fix it is _impossible_?"

A dangerous flame lights up Eddie's gaze as she grabs the assignment sheet. "'Part 2,'" she reads. "'Think of a way to improve traffic flow, i.e. increase the number of cars per hour that can pass through your intersection. Your solution does not need to be financially or logistically realistic but you need to be able to quantify the traffic change—see Part 3. Be as creative as you want! Remember that the judges will be looking for innovative ideas.'" She slaps the paper onto the carpet and narrows her eyes at Jamie. "See? They _want_ us to be creative."

"Okay. Creative. Like a roundabout. Or a bridge."

"None of those are _creative_. And whoever heard of putting a roundabout in the middle of Park Slope? Come on, at least my unrealistic idea is fun."

"It's not fun. It's just— _out there_. Nobody will have any idea what's going on," Jamie says.

"Yeah they will. I'll draw a better picture and trace it for the projector. If I explain it everyone will see how cool it is."

"You won't have time to explain it. We only have five minutes to present."

Eddie's shoulders drop and her whole body deflates as she regards Jamie with an exasperated scowl. "I explained it to you in thirty seconds."

"I'm just saying—nobody will get it."

"There's nothing to _get_. And Ms. Chapple will love it."

"Love it?" Jamie says skeptically. "More like she'll think we're insane."

Eddie shakes her head. "Trust me, I'm her favorite student and it's because she likes creative stuff like flying ferries."

Something about Eddie's confident insistence is starting to bug Jamie and he can't believe that just half an hour ago he leapt off his bed at the sound of the doorbell because after nine days he didn't want to wait those extra fifteen seconds to see her. Now he's close to having his fill of her face for a while.

"You're not her favorite," he scoffs. "All she ever does in class is tell you to shut up."

"Well, her planning period is during my English class so I always hang out with her and she _told_ me I'm her favorite."

"Aren't you supposed to be in English class during English class?"

Eddie rolls her eyes and jumps to her feet. "No. My English teacher sucks. It's way more fun to go bother Ms. Chapple. And we talk about cool things like flying ferries so I think _that's_ what we should do if we want to win. I have to pee—I'll be right back."

Jamie takes one more look at her drawing of this flying ferry contraption and thinks about it as he heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. It's physically impossible—there's no way a simple construction crane can support the weight of fifty cars on some kind of platform. And even if their solution doesn't have to be plausible he can't give in to something _that_ crazy.

"How's the work going?" Mary Margaret asks, interrupting his angry internal monologue on how he'll manage to force Eddie to be a little more realistic.

"Slow," Jamie groans. "Eddie is—making life harder."

His mother holds up the cupcake she's frosting—Jamie requested them under the guise of tonight's New Years Eve get-together with the debate team, but really he wanted them for Eddie's benefit. He wonders if Mary suspects the truth, because she says, "It sounded like you two were having a disagreement—but maybe these will put everyone in a better mood."

"Not really a disagreement," Jamie says. "More like she's just not working, not taking it seriously."

"Maybe," Mary concedes. "But sometimes you take things _too_ seriously, Jamie. There's no need to stress out over something like this. And when's it due? You have plenty more time."

"Next Tuesday," Jamie grumbles. "But I wanted to finish today so I can start studying for midterms."

"Oh, relax. You work so hard, Jamie—it's okay to have a little fun with it."

"Jamie?" Eddie calls from the next room.

"In the kitchen, sweetie," Mary replies.

A second later Eddie appears and the way her entire face transforms at the sight of the cupcakes almost makes Jamie forget that he's irritated with her.

"What are these for?" she asks. "Can I—?"

"Vanilla or red velvet?" Mary says, but Jamie remembers that Eddie prefers the red velvet and hands her one before she has to answer. He takes a vanilla for himself and carefully peels the wrapper off as Eddie lazily drags her tongue around the edge of the frosting on hers.

"They're for Jamie's New Years Eve party tonight," Mary tells her. "Are you staying? You're welcome to."

Eddie meets Jamie's eyes overtop of her snack. "Really? Who's going to be here?"

"Some of my friends from debate." He's a little embarrassed to say it and he's conflicted—he's annoyed about the math, but he wants Eddie to stay for the party, but he doesn't exactly think she'll have a good time with the debate kids, or at least not the kind of good time he suspects Eddie is expecting for her New Years Eve…

"Hmm," Eddie considers. "I'm invited to some party in Brooklyn Heights…but we'll see how long it takes to finish the project."

"It won't take long if we just add an extra lane or something," he points out.

"No. I told you, we're not doing that. Flying ferry. That's the ticket."

"Really, Eddie, quit playing around. Don't you want to win?"

Eddie's brows knit together and she lets out an incredulous huff. "Of _course_ I want to win, Jamie. That's why I'm trying to come up with something _original_."

He frowns at her. "Look, I really want the bonus points—"

"And I really want the ice cream," Eddie retorts. "If I didn't think it would win I wouldn't suggest it, Jamie."

Jamie sighs. "But it won't—"

"You want the bonus points?" Eddie interrupts. "You really want them?"

" _Yes_ , Eddie."

She purses her lips as she thinks for a moment. "Okay then. _When_ we win—not _if_ —you can have my bonus points and I'll get your ice cream. I don't take ice cream lightly, so believe me—the flying ferry is how we're going to win."

"Your points for my ice cream?"

"Points for ice cream," Eddie repeats. "That's the trade. Extra incentive for both of us. But the deal's only good if we do the flying ferry."

She's good, and she knows it. As much as Jamie hates the stupid ferry idea, he can't turn down five more free points, and her confidence in the idea is starting to sell it just a little. He doesn't question that ice cream motivates her to do her best work and so finally, begrudgingly, he gives in. "Fine," he says. "We'll do your dumb flying ferry. But we _better_ win."

Eddie smirks in satisfaction and licks some extra frosting off her finger. "Don't worry, Jamie. I have it all under control."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Life has been crazy lately. But I'm back with Jamie Reagan's Squeaky Clean Family Friendly New Year's Eve Extravaganza for your reading pleasure! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

Eddie cups the dice in her hands and blows through the space between her thumbs before letting them fly across the Monopoly board. The tension around the table is palpable as everyone waits for the dice to come to a stop. Finally they do, showing double 4s.

"No!" Eddie wails as Matthew, who sits across from her, whoops in triumph.

"Fifteen hundred dollars!" he cries. "Hand it over!"

"No - that was a bad roll. It bounced off of—"

"Nope! Fair and square. Your money is _mine_!"

With a dramatic groan Eddie slams a hand down on the table overtop her small pile of bills. She claws the money up and fans it in her hand before she starts to slap it back down in the center of the board—first her $500 bill, then four $100s, followed by a mess of fifties, twenties, and fives until she slides over the entire amount she owes Matthew for landing on his Boardwalk space with a hotel.

"Well, I'm done," she announces, letting her remaining funds—two fives and a few ones—fall to the table in front of her.

"No you're not!" Jamie tells her. "You rolled doubles. Go again. You'll pass Go, you'll get paid..."

"Eh," Eddie shrugs. "I need a snack break." She slides out of her chair and goes to the other end of the dining room table, where a couple party size bags of chips and a tray of cupcakes have been taunting her since her last snack break half an hour ago.

"You have to roll again," insists one of the other debaters—Ethan, maybe, or Luke, she can't remember. There are eight of them here not including Jamie. She can't be bothered to keep track of all the new names.

"What're you gonna do, put me in jail?" Eddie jeers.

Theresa, the only other girl at Jamie's so-called party, rolls her eyes. "How many times do we have to tell you? You can't just _decide_ to put someone else in jail."

Jamie's jaw flaps open and shut a couple times before he manages to talk. "I—I'll roll for you, Eddie."

"You can't do that!" Theresa argues, but Jamie has already scooped up the dice.

"You got a seven," he reports. "You're on Oriental. Who owns…?"

"I do," Eddie mutters.

"Good. So you're still in!" He takes two hundred dollars from the box and sets it with Eddie's other cash. "You're fine, see? Alright, it's my turn."

"Land on a green, land on a green," Eddie chants across the table.

"See, you still care," Thomas says with an accusatory glare.

With a paper plate of chips in hand, Eddie returns to her seat next to Jamie as he rolls. He reaches across her to move his game piece and Eddie, unwilling to wait a few extra seconds, flexes her arm around his to bring a chip to her mouth. He stops counting at Pacific Avenue and sighs as Eddie celebrates.

"That's me! Nine hundred bucks!" she sings.

"Can I have my arm back?" he asks with a pointed look at where his forearm is kind of loosely pinned in the crook of her bent elbow. She lets her arm fall limply across the board, freeing him, and holds up her other hand for his payment.

"What do you have left, Jamie?" asks the kid next to Matthew.

"I'm okay," he says defensively, clapping a few bills into Eddie's palm. "Still beating you."

"Theresa's turn," calls out one of the others, the freshman who's taking the game a little too seriously for Eddie's liking. He nudges the dice closer to Theresa, who sits on Jamie's other side, and she picks them up to take her turn.

"One more chance," Theresa says to Eddie. "Five hundred dollars for—"

"Nope," Eddie interrupts.

"Marvin Gardens," Theresa finishes through clenched teeth. "Come on, really? What do you need it for?"

"I'm a big fan of yellow," Eddie replies, idly crunching another chip as she inspects her nails. Theresa is the other one who is way too invested in this game and Eddie has spent the last couple hours trying to make her life harder however she can. Plus - and maybe Eddie is making this up since Theresa is the only girl on the debate team, but she can't be sure - Theresa seems to pay more attention to Jamie than to any of the other boys and it's getting on Eddie's nerves.

"You know you need more money," Theresa says. "I'll give you a thousand."

"It'll cost you _all_ your money," Eddie shoots back.

"What? No, that's so stupid!"

"That's the deal."

Eddie smirks in satisfaction at Jamie's laugh when Theresa gives a loud groan of frustration. All in all, the evening has played out pretty much as Eddie expected, except that she's had more fun than she thought she would. Granted, Jamie's party is very different from what she figures her swim team friends are doing right now, and they'll definitely tease her for missing it. But she won't regret it tomorrow morning when their coaches _start the year off right_ with one of the toughest practices they can come up with and her teammates are so hung over that they can't keep up—if they even show up at all. Everyone knows the coaches do it on purpose, so even though Eddie has been to other parties with the swimmers, she refuses to become another New Years casualty.

Theresa finishes her turn without losing her irritated scowl at Eddie's refusal to hand over the one yellow property she's missing. Two of the other debate kids go next and the one who's been hanging on by the skin of his teeth for two or three rounds finally goes broke. He grabs a plate of snacks before heading off to the living room to join the other broke Monopoly player, the two debate teammates who opted out of the game from the beginning, Joe, and a couple of Joe's own underage friends.

Matthew, who's got the most properties to his name, rubs his hands together and surveys the board. "Now it's getting good."

"More like it's getting boring," Eddie groans. "How much longer are we gonna go?"

"Until only one remains," Thomas rasps in a low, cartoonish voice.

"That'll take all night."

"Last year we didn't finish until four in the morning," Matthew says. He grabs the dice and starts his turn.

"Really? You played Monopoly for eight hours straight?"

"Nine," Jamie says. "Because we started at seven."

"Minus five minutes for the actual New Year."

"Well, I'm not doing five more hours of this." Eddie pushes back from the table, planning to follow the sound of laughter drifting in from the others watching TV in the living room.

"But Eddie—" Jamie starts.

"I landed on North Carolina!" Matthew interrupts. "That's yours. What do I owe you?"

Eddie wrinkles her nose, glancing back and forth between Matthew and the cupcake tray as she contemplates this development. "Eleven hundred," she mutters, scooting forward again. That money doesn't make a dent in Matthew's fortune but it doubles her own cash and now the competitive part of her won't let her quit.

"Next," Theresa says with a sideways glance at Eddie that doesn't go unnoticed. "Go, Ryan."

Ryan rolls doubles but Eddie still grabs the dice and hands them to the overeager freshman who'll take the next turn, keeping Theresa in her peripheral vision as she does.

Theresa doesn't disappoint. "Ryan has to go again!" she says. "He rolled _doubles_ , Eddie."

"Oops," Eddie deadpans. "My bad."

"Ugh." Theresa rolls her eyes and slumps against the back of her chair. Jamie's gaze flits in her direction when she moves and he looks like he might say something—sort of the same uneasy expression he's affected all night whenever Theresa lets Eddie's antics get to her. His jaw clenches with a nervous swallow and he keeps his mouth shut.

"Just roll again, Ryan," he groans after a moment.

"Keep it moving," Theresa adds.

While Ryan finishes his turn, Jamie's sister-in-law Linda saunters into the dining room. "Ten minute warning, Jamie," she says, helping herself to a plate of food. "You should get the cider out."

Matthew jumps up from his chair. "Ten minutes? Pause this, guys, let's go watch."

"Those aren't all for you," Jamie gripes at Linda.

Linda makes a face at him and adds another cupcake to her plate. "They're for the baby." She emphasizes by pointing to her swollen belly before she heads back to the living room.

All the Monopoly players follow her except for Jamie, who heads into the kitchen, and Theresa, who loudly announces that she'll help him serve sparkling cider.

Eddie stops at the end of the dining room table, intending to refill her snack plate before joining the others in front of the TV. That really is _all_ she wants to do—with Linda swiping cupcakes left and right, she needs to act before they're gone—but she gets more than she bargains for when she overhears Theresa in the kitchen.

"Why'd you have to invite that girl?"

"Wh—Eddie? What's wrong with Eddie being here?"

"She's not on the debate team."

"So? She was here all day, Theresa. What am I supposed to do, kick her out?"

"Yeah! It's the debate team party!"

"Careful. You're spilling," Jamie says. "It's not _just_ for the team. My brother's friends are—"

"Your brother's friends are your brother's friends. They're not ruining _our_ party—because we've done this for three years, Jamie, and this is the first time someone else showed up to screw up the game!"

"Eddie's not screwing up the game, Theresa," Jamie scoffs. Eddie smirks at the irritation she hears in his voice. "And nobody's forcing _you_ to keep playing either."

"But I _want_ to play, Jamie," Theresa says, her voice now dripping with whiny sweetness. "And she just wants to goof off. Can't you tell her if she won't be serious—?"

"Eddie can do whatever she wants," Jamie replies. "And I'm happy if she keeps playing. Here, take these out."

Eddie has been frozen as she listened but now she grabs her plate and one more cupcake and scampers off to the living room before Theresa sees her, biting back a smile the whole way.


	10. Chapter 10

_Friday_

The lights dancing past outside the car attract Jamie's wandering gaze as Joe weaves through Brooklyn. His eyes can't decide where to look and they flit around the inside of the car from the lights to the back of Joe's head to the plastic leftover container wedged in the middle of the backseat between his and Eddie's thighs.

Right now she's acting a little too interested in Joe's life as a student at John Jay College of Criminal Justice and Jamie is even _more_ annoyed at Mary Margaret for refusing to let him and his three months of licensed driving experience on the road at 2:30am on New Years. That should be _Jamie_ on the receiving end of Eddie's impressed curiosity - but what does he have that's as interesting as police college? It's not that he's jealous of his brother in a competitive way, but with Joe in the car Jamie has hardly had a chance to get a word in edgewise.

"And did you know that they use the same concept for designing prisons and malls?" Joe says as he follows Eddie's directions for another turn.

"What? So every store in the mall is, like, a prison cell?" Eddie asks.

"No - but they want to be able to see everything from everywhere, you know? Open lines of sight in case something goes wrong."

"Oh, that makes sense -" Eddie starts, leaning forward around the headrest of the passenger seat and shoving the cupcakes container more firmly against Jamie's leg. "Um - it's a right at the light up here but…"

"Yeah," Joe sighs, slowing down as they approach the rolling flashes of red and blue that block the intersection ahead of them.

"Are they letting anyone through?" Jamie asks. At this point he just wants to hear his own voice, remind Eddie that he's still in the car.

"Doesn't look like it…"

"Drunk driver," Jamie theorizes.

"Probably. Let's see if I can pull a U-turn and go around."

"It's okay," Eddie says. "It's just two blocks from here so I can walk." Her hand fumbles for the door latch as Joe stops at the end of the short line of cars trapped by the accident in the center of the intersection.

Joe begins to protest but Jamie jumps in before he gets any words out. "I'll walk you," he offers. "Joe, you just turn around and wait and I'll meet you in a minute."

Jamie scrambles out of the backseat before anybody can argue, and he crosses over to the sidewalk on Eddie's side as she steps out with her school backpack and her cupcakes. She has all that are left because while a newly eliminated Theresa ranted about Eddie's refusal to trade her for that last yellow property - as if that's the sole reason she lost - Eddie brought the entire tray of cupcakes in front of herself and nonchalantly took a bite out of each remaining one. Jamie thought it was hilarious and he was still laughing as a furious Theresa stalked out of his house to go home.

"You think your brother's over there?" Eddie asks with a nod at the NYPD cars that have responded to the accident.

Jamie blinks heavily to regain some clarity after the sight of the lights reflecting in Eddie's shining eyes fogged up his brain. "Um, no, we're not near his precinct," he answers.

"Oh. Your dad?"

"Same thing, he's in Manhattan. And detectives wouldn't have to go to a regular car crash unless there's something else going on."

"Ah." She squints and cautiously walks toward the makeshift police blockade so they can turn the corner.

As they get closer Jamie can see the two mangled cars in the middle of the intersection. "Wow, that looks bad."

"Mhmm," Eddie agrees. She can't tear her eyes away and she bumps into Jamie as she walks, muttering "Sorry" before she straightens herself out.

"We can't get in their way," Jamie says softly. He wraps one hand around her elbow and steers her into a wider path on the sidewalk around the scene. She turns her head to watch over her shoulder for as long as she can before they round the corner and she turns back to the front.

"So your dad and both your brothers," she says. "And you? Do you wanna be a cop?"

"Nah," Jamie offers. "I don't think I'm really cop material."

"Cop material?"

"Yeah, you know." Jamie pauses to think - he's not sure how to explain what he means, since _cop material_ is a concept he's implicitly understood all his life but never really put words to. "My dad, my brother Danny…they're good with people, they make people respect them, I guess. They're the right amount of tough, scary, when they need to be, and I'm - not."

"Joe's going to be a cop and he's not scary," Eddie points out.

Jamie lets out a soft laugh. "You've never seen him angry."

"I'm just saying - not all police officers have to be scary. Maybe it's a good thing to have some cops that _aren't_ always scary."

Hunching forward against the bitterly cold wind, Jamie glances sideways at the way Eddie hugs the flat food container upright against her chest. "What about you?" he asks. "You thinking about John Jay or something?"

"Like, being a cop? No," she replies.

"Then why were you -?"

"I can still think it's cool to solve crimes and arrest bad guys even if I don't wanna be a cop. I can still like the stories."

"Then what _do_ you want to be?"

"I dunno," she shrugs, an unsteadiness in her voice thanks to the cold. "I like math, so maybe that's what I'll do in college."

"To be a teacher or something?"

"Dunno," she says again. "I don't really know all the jobs you can do with math but Ms. Chapple says there's a lot. Just nothing with money - that's not the cool math."

"You could invent an actual flying ferry," Jamie suggests.

Eddie giggles and bounces as she walks, inching closer to Jamie to let a group of college girls stumble past them going the other way. "And I'll be a millionaire!" she exclaims. "Everybody's traffic problems solved! Maybe if you're lucky I'll give you a few thousand dollars when I'm rich, you know, since you're my partner."

"Just a few thousand? Well I'm gonna be a lawyer so I'll sue you for half. See you in court, Janko."

"Hey, a few hours ago you thought it was the stupidest idea you ever heard," Eddie reminds him.

"Nothing's stupid if it makes money."

"If you're a lawyer you could be rich anyway. You don't need my flying ferry money."

"Can never have too much," Jamie laughs. He keeps walking a couple steps before he realizes that Eddie has slowed down next to him, and he turns to look at her to see why.

"This - this is me," she says.

Jamie raises his eyebrows at the tan brick apartment building that looms above them but he doesn't really get to look before Eddie's magnetic grin lures his attention back in. He coughs out an awkward laugh, unsure of what else to do as she just stands there watching him for a long moment.

"Thanks for inviting me to stay for your party," she finally says. "It was fun."

"You're welcome." He doesn't add that technically it was his mother who invited her - and he's certainly not complaining that she did. "I know the debate kids are weird but…"

"You say that like you're not one of them," Eddie teases.

"I mean -"

"You're weird, I'm weird, we're all weird," she giggles. "Anyone who plays Monopoly that long is weird, Jamie."

"I guess that's true," he chuckles.

She's visibly shivering now, straining her quivering jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. "I'm - I'm gonna go in now," she announces. "I'll see you...on Monday, I guess."

"Yeah, Monday."

Jamie shoves his hands deeper in his pockets and another moment passes silently as neither one moves. Then Eddie shifts her cupcakes to one side of her body and reaches up to hook her free arm around Jamie's neck. He didn't expect the hug but he tugs his hands loose from his pants to reciprocate, holding her close to him around the awkward protrusion of her backpack and the stupid cupcakes. The yellow hat she wears smells like chlorine and flowers and the feeling of her warm breath against the exposed skin of his neck sends shivers down his spine and he's almost glad when she loosens her grip because she's had him on edge all day and now he's about to fling himself over it.

But even as he drops his arms she lingers against him for a second, retracting her elbow just enough to rest her gloved hand on the back of his head. She rises on her toes and plants a gentle kiss on his cheek. And just as quickly as it happens it's over and she's floating away into her building, leaving Jamie rooted on the sidewalk slack-jawed and stunned as he tries to remember what it feels like to breathe.


	11. Chapter 11

"Took you long enough," Joe complains when Jamie returns to the car. "Thought she said it was just two blocks."

Jamie feels his brow furrow and he reaches for his seat belt out of habit or muscle memory or something other than conscious willpower because he doesn't have any of that left. "Sorry," he manages.

"Gonna close the door there?"

"What?"

"The door, Jamie, close it!"

"Oh. Yeah." Jamie leans for the door, hardly pulling it shut before Joe pulls away from the curb where he's been waiting.

"What's wrong with you? Couldn't handle seeing an accident?" Joe asks. "It wasn't even that bad. I've seen worse."

"The smaller car's totaled." It takes way too much effort to give such a simple response, and he doesn't know why his mind is so scrambled. He's kissed girls before, on the lips even - including Theresa in a couple of instances from the summer before 9th grade he'd rather not remember - but none of those times left him with this lasting heat radiating across the surface of his skin from where Eddie touched him...

"Is it," Joe says flatly. He turns his head to look at Jamie as he drives with one wrist lazily draped over the top of the steering wheel.

"Think so."

"You gonna tell me what's going on with this girl?"

"Eddie?"

"No, Aunt Lisa. Of _course_ Eddie."

"Eyes on the road!" Jamie barks, bracing himself as Joe hits the brakes to avoid a drunk couple staggering parallel to the sidewalk.

"I'm not going to hit anyone," Joe mutters. "God, you're worse than driving with Mom."

"Eddie's my partner for a project," Jamie says. "That's it, Joe, you know that."

"Do I? _Do I_ know that, Jamie?"

"Well, _I_ know that." But it's not true - he sees it now, thanks to Eddie's little gesture that alerted him to the possibility that she reciprocates his feelings. It occurs to him that maybe that's why he can feel her lips against the angle of his jaw as if it's five minutes ago and they're still on the sidewalk outside her building - he _hoped_ but he didn't dare let himself think that Eddie could possibly like him the way he likes her. The thought that she does thrills him. But he'll never admit it under pressure from Joe's teasing.

"You like her. It's okay to say it, little brother."

"Joe -"

"Jaaamie," Joe drawls with the same intonation their mother used as a warning when they stepped out of line as kids. "You're sixteen, not six. You don't have to dance around it like some baby in junior high."

"Leave me alone."

"You wanted to kiss her at midnight, I could tell," Joe rolls on. "Is that what took you so long walking her home? She didn't kiss you in front of everyone at the house but she made up for it before she went inside…"

"Joe!"

"That's what took you so long," Joe declares, nodding as if he knows. "Niiiice, Jamie! I'm proud of you."

"Leave me _alone_!"

Joe ignores him. "You're not great at keeping these things secret. Everyone can tell. Why do you think Mom made me chaperone to take Eddie home?"

"Because - all the people drinking - driving is dangerous -"

"Because she doesn't want you trying to get in some girl's pants in her backseat."

"That's not true!" Jamie cries. He knows Joe is just digging for a reaction out of him but he can't resist. "Come on, I would never -"

"Maybe not, but you know how Danny used to work his sweet and innocent act with Mom, and remember the time Dad made him clean the whole interior of the station wagon? That's because Erin caught him in the school parking lot one night during a basketball game -"

"That's disgusting," Jamie mutters, sliding down in the seat like he's embarrassed that everyone outside the car can see him.

"So you understand where Mom's coming from when she's careful about letting you and some girl be alone in the car."

"She told _you_ to watch out and be safe when we left."

"Yeah, watch out for any makeout sessions in the backseat," Joe says, a levity in his voice that has Jamie groaning in exasperation. "I know why you sat back there."

"I was letting her have the front seat if she wanted. She got in the back after I was already - this is stupid, Joe."

Joe can barely hold in a laugh, adopting an airy tone appropriate for the token best friend in a low quality romcom. "Your _feelings_ are not stupid, Jamie."

"What _feelings_?" he croaks. He presses his thumbs into his eyes as if he can make Joe disappear.

"Cute," Joe muses. "You try and deny it but you're just digging yourself a deeper hole...I see right through you, Jaymo."

Jamie clenches his jaw, cursing his inability to just _ignore_. All his life his siblings have known exactly how to get under his skin and he's never been great at breaking the cycle by withholding the response he knows they want. But this, the teasing about Eddie, needs to stop now. It's late - early? - and he's tired and he hates that his good mood from a full day around Eddie's sunshiny smile has been erased in the time it's taken to drive about three city blocks.

But his silence doesn't deter Joe, who continues in the same taunting, almost condescending tone. "I think it's sweet, really. She's smart, right? The math nerd and the future valedictorian, a match made in heaven… I had my doubts, the blonde hair when you usually go for brunettes but I think you two've got a real shot."

"Quit it, Joe, please."

"Relax, Jamie, I'm just kidding around."

"You're not funny."

"Matter of opinion."

"Not really."

But Joe finally relents and they sit beside each other without talking for a few minutes as Joe retraces their route back to Bay Ridge. Jamie once again lets his mind wander to more pleasant places, like Monday's return to school, routine - normalcy. Other than final prep for their in-class presentation, their calculus project is finished and so that excuse to see Eddie is gone - but at least they'll have school, and Jamie cautiously hopes that now, maybe they won't need excuses to see each other outside of it.

"Seriously though, Jamie." Suddenly Joe isn't so flippant but Jamie still arches a suspicious eyebrow as he turns his head to listen. "I like her for you. She seems fun. You need somebody fun. You're too uptight all the time."

"Joe -" Jamie groans.

Joe lifts one hand, palm forward in a gesture of innocence. "Just some brotherly advice. Girls aren't like…studying for a test -"

"What?"

"You treat girls the same way you treat school and debate and cross country and everything else."

Jamie frowns, confused, as he waits for Joe to continue.

"Like when you run," Joe sighs. "How last year Coach Hyde told you that you'd be better if you quit using your brain when you race, quit overthinking it and just let your legs do what they know how to do - same thing. You overthink. Don't do that. You can't be all analytical about girls. It never works. You just have to go for it."

Jamie purses his lips in consideration. Honestly Joe has hit the nail on the head - three times now things have started to move in the right direction with a girl he likes, only to fizzle out after a month or two when he inevitably panicked over something silly, something that wasn't worth getting anxious or distancing himself over, but he can't help it. He never stops thinking, analyzing, _agonizing_ over things that other people either don't notice or don't care about, and it's circled around to bite him every time.

And just now, he realizes, it happened _again_. When Eddie hugged him he had to actively tell himself to _hug her back_. A second later her lips were on his face and it was like slow motion inside Jamie's head as he processed what was happening. His train of thought went flying off the tracks and he couldn't just _respond_ on instinct, without thinking, without deciding - which is why, by the time he realized what she was doing and thought that maybe he should _do something_ too, Eddie was already gone, leaving Jamie alone in the cold.

That brain of his is both a blessing and a curse.

"You make things harder than they need to be," Joe continues, snapping Jamie back to the present. "You have to just let go sometimes, you know?"

Jamie sighs. "I'm not good at that."

"Yeah, I know. But work on it. Have fun for once. Eddie seems like she knows how to have fun so just... go with it."

The bright busyness of Brooklyn's New Years festivities has given way to the quiet nook of single-family homes tucked away in the sleepiest corner of Bay Ridge. Turning onto their street, Joe slows the car to a crawl and glances at Jamie. "She likes you too," he adds. "It's obvious."

Jamie says nothing as Joe eases into the narrow space between the two others in the driveway. Both boys duck out of the car and Joe catches Jamie's eye as they head for the side door.

"Just keep it simple," Joe says, one last piece of unsolicited advice, but by now Jamie is listening. "You'll be fine."

Jamie nods as he shuts the door behind him, sealing the warm air inside the now-darkened kitchen. "Thanks Joe."

"Yeah. Goodnight."


	12. Chapter 12

_Tuesday_

"Hey _Jamie_!" Eddie says again, since he didn't hear her the first time she called out across the bustling hallway. Now he looks up, meeting her eyes as she elbows her way over to his locker. "Look what I have! I told you I'd get it."

He squints at the cardstock she holds up for his consideration. "Cutting it a little close, don't you think? The _day_ we present?"

"Hey, my friend was busy with school too so it took a few days to make - but I've got it, don't I? Look, isn't it cool?"

Jamie takes the picture to look more closely. Eddie watches his eyes skim over the detailed drawing of the flying ferry, bouncing impatiently as she awaits his verdict.

"It's cool," he finally agrees. "This is good - it'll help with the presentation. Way better than your picture."

"I've got a transparency too and - heeeey," Eddie snaps. "My picture worked to sell _you_ , didn't it?"

"No, those points worked to sell me," he says, shutting his locker. "And we better win them today."

"We will. Do you _see_ this?" She snatches the drawing back and makes a face at him. "Nobody else has anything this cool."

"And nobody else's presentations will be as good as ours either."

"Yeah, no way **.** " Eddie holds up a hand and Jamie obliges her with a high five before they let themselves drift into the flow of foot traffic. "You nervous?"

"For myself, no," Jamie replies. "But if you go off script and ruin it -"

Eddie grins, tipping her chin to look up at him as he walks next to her. "I really scared you when we practiced, didn't I?"

"If we lose you don't get ice cream," Jamie says, nudging her sideways with his shoulder as they get closer to Eddie's first period history classroom. "Just remember that."

"Irrelevant. We're going to win. I'm not -"

"You're not a loser, I know -"

Eddie peels off to lean against the wall next to her classroom door, smirking with a narrowed gaze as Jamie pivots to mirror her position. "So if we lose," she tells him, "it'll be your fault."

Before he can respond, Eddie pushes off the wall and brushes past him, leaving him with a friendly tap of the outside of her fist against his shoulder as she heads into class.

* * *

Eddie's morning drags on endlessly, just like every day since school resumed last Monday. Calculus has been her favorite all year, but she's had no trouble entertaining herself in her other classes - until now, when anything short of making Jamie squirm has become downright boring to her. She's stolen his seat, his pencils, his concentration - every day something different to make sure he doesn't forget that she's there in the back row and he's on her mind. She's had to up her game every class because Jamie is so damn _focused_ all the time and the same tricks don't work twice in a row.

But she's enjoyed the challenge. Like yesterday - she shredded a piece of paper and wrote a random word on each tiny fragment, passing one up the aisle to Jamie every few minutes. She knew he'd think it was some sort of secret message, and he didn't disappoint - Eddie spent the second half of class chewing relentlessly on her (well, Jamie's) pencil to keep from laughing as he frantically rearranged the nonsense words every time Ms. Chapple turned her back.

That's the best part for Eddie, forcing breaks in Jamie's studious demeanor and watching him scramble to split his attention between Eddie and whatever it is he's supposed to be doing. It sparks a dark satisfaction that in all her months of watching the back of Jamie's head during class, nothing has tripped up his diligent focus - but now she manages it every day.

Other than school - math class and a few minutes every morning before the first bell - Eddie has seen him once since New Years, this past Saturday. She went to his house before her swim meet to practice their presentation, and she spent three hours goofing off while Jamie, caught somewhere between amused and stressed, tried to make her behave.

She knows that by anyone else's standards she's passed _cute_ and landed somewhere between _aggravating_ and _just plain obnoxious_. But judging by his smile right now as they approach Ms. Chapple's classroom from opposite directions, Jamie doesn't seem to think so. And at this point his is the only opinion that matters.

"Ready?" he asks with a flick of his eyebrows as they turn to walk through the door shoulder to shoulder.

"Pressey's Ice Cream is calling my name," she grins.

"I'll just take my A, thank you very much."

"You are no fun, you know that?"

Eddie stops short at the front of the room when she sees Matthew in her normal seat next to Lauren. He leans over her desk and they discuss their presentation notecards in intense, hushed voices.

"You take all my Monopoly money and now you take my seat?" Eddie complains loudly. "What gives, Matt Reilly?"

"Just sit up there," Lauren hisses without so much as a glance in Eddie's direction.

Recognizing the notes of stress and impatience in her friend's voice, Eddie drops into Thomas's usual seat with a huff. "Don't _want_ to sit up here," she mutters.

"You don't want to sit next to _me_?" Jamie teases.

"God, no," she retorts. "You smell nasty after PE. There are showers for a reason, you know -"

He opens his mouth to respond but doesn't get the chance because Thomas arrives, griping about his stolen desk, and then the bell rings. Eddie just gives Jamie a sideways smirk as Ms. Chapple calls for quiet.

"Today is the day, everyone," the teacher announces theatrically. "I know you've worked hard, I know you're all ready - and _these_ -" she points to the two gift certificates and two extra credit coupons stuck to the chalkboard with magnets "-are waiting for the winning pair. But before we get to it, let me introduce our judges. You all know Mr. Davis, most of you had him for Algebra 2...and we also have Mrs. Heyward joining us from the library. The three of us will grade you based on the rubric, and we'll also vote on our favorite solution to determine our winner. Any questions?"

"Yeah, can we just have the prizes now?" Eddie whispers.

"What's that?" Ms. Chapple asks over Jamie's amused exhale.

"Nothing."

"Okay then, let's get started."

After two horribly boring presentations Jamie sets his first transparency on the projector - a simple birds-eye sketch of their intersection with arrows to demonstrate traffic flow - and then takes the class through their findings in a well-rehearsed, even tone. Then Eddie's enthusiasm fills the room as she uses the drawing of the flying ferry to explain their solution.

She's satisfied to see Ms. Chapple suppressing a grin, and though she can't quite read the other judges' faces, she's more confident than ever. She grins at Jamie while the class claps and he gives her a little nod, biting back a smile of his own as they return to their desks.

Their flying ferry is the only unique idea amidst the offerings of wider streets and overpasses. Some of the bridge designs are more creative than others but ultimately they're all versions of the same unexciting, predictable solution. By the time the last pair finishes, Eddie is practically nodding off from the monotony of it all. She only sits up straight when Ms. Chapple tells the class to talk amongst themselves while the judges determine the winner.

"It's us," she whispers. "How can they rank a whole bunch of the same stupid left turn lanes?"

Jamie nervously drums his fingers against his desk. "We should've gone with a normal bridge," he murmurs as if he didn't hear her. "We shouldn't have done something so _out there_ , nobody else did…"

"Oh, be quiet," Eddie mutters, more to herself than to him. She knows by now that the only thing that'll shut him up is an extra credit slip in his hand.

She rests her chin in her hand as Jamie keeps on mumbling. For the first time a a nervous knot churns in her stomach about the outcome - not at the prospect of lost ice cream, because she can stop by Pressey's after school today with her mother's credit card if she really wants; but at the thought of Jamie's disappointment - a disappointment that will be personal, that will completely extinguish the tiny spark that's been flickering between them, at least in Eddie's mind, since New Year's Eve.

"Alright everyone, quiet," Ms. Chapple says. The class takes a moment to settle down and Eddie rolls her eyes at how little everyone else cares, how they don't _deserve_ to win. "We've got our results and there's a clear winner. I just want to say - I wanted you all to have a little fun with this project, think outside the box, and some of you did...the double-decker bridge, nice work...but one stood out above the rest, and that's the construction crane - ferry. So, Jamie and Eddie…"

The class offers another compulsory round of applause as Ms. Chapple sets the spoils of victory on Jamie and Eddie's desks, winking at Eddie as she does.

* * *

"Eddie, wait up!"

Eddie spins, an impish grin on her face at the sound of Jamie's voice. He rushes to catch up to her, comically out of breath, somehow managing to hold onto his usual intensity as he sucks desperate gulps of air.

"This is for you," he says, holding out the colorful quarter-slip of paper that Eddie recognizes as his ice cream certificate. "So give me my points."

Eddie takes the certificate from him and pretends to inspect it like it might be fake. "I don't know," she says casually. "I think I'll keep them. Here, you can have this back."

His jaw drops and she hardly contains her giggles. "But we had a deal!" he sputters. "We went with your flying ferry - so give me the bonus points!"

" _You_ didn't think the flying ferry would win."

"But it _did_ win and you said we'd trade-"

"So I was right, is what you're saying."

"I - yeah, we won, so -"

"So admit that _I'm_ awesome, and my _idea_ was awesome, and you never should've questioned me." She steels her voice but she knows her sparkling eyes give her away.

Finally the recognition surfaces on Jamie's face and he sighs, releasing a load of tension from his shoulders. "Alright," he says, teasing now. His mouth twitches with an impending smile. "You were right, Eddie. You're the smartest insane mastermind in fifth period calculus. Can I please have my points now?"

Eddie purses her lips like she still has much to consider. "Oh, I suppose."

" _Thank you_." He snatches the slip of paper from between her fingers before she can change her mind. Turning to leave, he pauses and looks back to meet her gaze. "Nice work, partner."

"You too."

With a swallow and a quick nod he rushes off toward the debate coach's classroom - as he's told her before, if he isn't ten minutes early he's late.

"Wait - Jamie!" she calls just as he reaches the corner.

He stops, his brow furrowed in impatient expectation. "Yeah?"

She holds up the two gift certificates. "Ten dollars is a lot of ice cream, even for me."

He waits, wordless.

"So on Friday, you want to help me spend them?"

"Um - there's a debate tournament -"

"I thought you weren't competing this week."

"I'm not, but I'm supposed to help out with the underclassman tournament -"

Eddie rolls her eyes, coughing out something between a scoff and a laugh at how clueless he is, the internal conflict etched across the angles of his face. "I'll meet you at your locker after school."

"I - uh -"

"After school!" she calls out. "We're going to Pressey's. See ya!"


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Sorry for the wait! I hope this longer chapter makes up for it. Read on to enjoy some ~first date shenanigans~!_

* * *

 _Friday_

"Ten minutes, Jamie Reagan! _Ten whole minutes_!"

Jamie's head snaps up and the folding chair he's wrestling with clatters loudly to the floor. From his vantage point onstage all he can see is the silhouette of a small person standing in the doorway at the back of the auditorium but there's no question about who it is.

"Uh oh, Jamie's wife is pissed," Matthew mutters nearby.

"Shut up," Jamie hisses, still frozen.

"Better go see what she wants," Thomas smirks. "Hey! Luke! Get over here and take over for Jamie."

With a groan and a scowl Jamie hops off the front of the stage and walks up the left aisle, almost cringing in guilty apprehension. As soon as the bell rang he ducked out of class and took back hallways straight to the auditorium – the easy way out, because no matter how many times he told Eddie that he has stuff to do today, she kept on insisting that this ice cream outing is happening.

Her eyes blaze hot and dangerous as she stomps toward him. Jamie gasps in a nervous gulp of air as they meet in the middle and prepares for whatever damage control it'll take to keep her from causing a scene while the debate setup continues onstage behind him.

"I waited by your locker for _ten minutes_ ," she hisses, her voice mercifully quieter now.

"Eddie – I _told_ you. I have to be here for the underclass debate. We're in charge of setup and Coach wants us to watch and give the newbies feedback on Monday –"

"And I told _you_ ," she says, planting hands on her hips, "that we're using the gift certificates today after school."

"I'll meet you at the ice cream place after this is over," he pleads. "It'll be done by five –"

"No can do. Pasta party tonight. It's now or never."

"So you won't skip a _party_ but you want me to miss a debate?" he snaps. "Come on, Eddie, don't –"

"Pasta parties are official things!" she interrupts. "We have one the day before every meet and you can't swim if you miss it. Are you gonna get pulled from your next debate if you sneak out? Don't think so."

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out except a rush of air he didn't know he was holding. Hesitantly he glances back at the stage before meeting Eddie's eyes again and this is exactly why he wanted to avoid her at the end of the school day – it's like she's magnetic, with this overwhelming pull that has him seriously wondering how bad it would really be to ditch this stupid debate.

Eddie reaches out and tugs at his wrist. "Come on!"

"Let me finish setting up," he finally offers. "After it starts I'll try to sneak out."

"Try? No, you _will_ sneak out."

"I – okay, Eddie, _alright_. I'll meet you by the library."

"Don't take forever, okay? I'm starving and we don't have all day."

She turns on her heel and marches out of the auditorium, leaving Jamie to drag his way through the next twenty minutes as they finish setup and welcome the St. Agnes's JV debate team to their school. His stomach twists in agonizing knots as he perches on the edge of a second row seat to watch and he doesn't know if it's nervousness about leaving – he's never flaked on an obligation like this in his life, even one as minor as _be in the audience to support the younger team members_ – or excitement for whatever it is that he's about to do with Eddie.

A date. A date? Maybe. Probably. He's never been asked out by a girl before so he's not sure if that's Eddie's intention. But – yes he is.

Four minutes into the first round of competition, Jamie slides out of the row and speedwalks out of the auditorium as quietly as he can.

Eddie faces the wall next to the library entrance, turning her head from the plaques there when she hears the auditorium door open at the other end of the empty hall.

"About time," she goads, but she grins as she does. "I was about to go back in there and trust me, that's not something you wanted to happen."

The stress melts right off his shoulders at the sight of her smile. "You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet? I'll go in there right now like I'm looking for you and yell-"

"Don't," he laughs, wrapping a hand around her elbow to hold her back just in case. "I'm here now. So let's go."

She nods and starts toward the exit with Jamie at her side. "I can't believe you were going to stand me up to watch a bunch of freshmen argue with each other."

"It's not _just_ arguing," he says. "You have to prepare, there's strategy, skill…"

"I'm a _great_ arguer. I bet I could go up there and swim circles around all of them."

"Swim circles?"

"Or run circles. Or debate circles, whatever. I'd beat everyone. I'd get a plaque in front of the library for being the best debater this school has ever seen."

"There's a format, though," Jamie tries to explain through his amusement. "You can't just talk over anyone whenever you want."

"I don't talk over people whenever I want."

"Then what do you call it when Ms. Chapple has to tell you to shut up fifty times every math class?"

"I call it _nobody appreciates my valuable input_ , that's what."

"Your valuable input?"

"I have a lot to say!" she giggles.

"Yeah... plus you don't get to pick your own topic," Jamie continues. "The topics get chosen for you. And you can get assigned to present a position you don't agree with. I don't know if you'd like it."

Eddie considers this as they walk towards Pressey's Ice Cream, which is just a couple streets over from school. She moves quickly, with purpose - it's not a leisurely stroll but something exciting, determined, like everything Eddie does. Jamie has noticed that about her - she isn't as serious about school as he is but she carries herself with her own brand of intensity that fascinates him in a way he can't ignore.

"I could do that," she announces. "I wouldn't like it but it's basically playing devil's advocate, right? You just win by having a better argument than the other person?"

"Um - not exactly. There's a whole set of rules… it's kind of complicated to explain."

Reaching the door to Pressey's, Eddie glances at him with eyebrows raised in expectation. Jamie holds the door open over her shoulder and trails her inside where the intense, sugary smell of fresh waffle cones greets them.

"So... what are the rules?" she presses when he doesn't say anything. "Mmm, I love this place. Cookie dough or chocolate peanut butter, I can never decide…"

"Well, we usually have the topics ahead of time so we can research and get ready, but we don't know what side we'll argue until half an hour before..." He leans over Eddie to get a better look at the flavors inside the freezer. "So you go backstage, and they assign you your position - the cookie dough looks really good."

"You get that then, and I'll have chocolate peanut butter," Eddie decides.

"Then you have a little time to prepare, either by yourself or with your partner -"

"I can help the next guest," the college girl behind the counter calls out.

"Can I please have a double chocolate peanut butter in a waffle cone?"

"You got it."

"What decides if you have a partner?" Eddie asks, never taking her eyes off the employee as she scoops ice cream into her cone.

"The format of the debate," Jamie replies. "Or what you're entered in that day. The little practice debates, like what they're doing right now - those don't always have all the categories but the big tournaments with lots of schools have all kinds of different categories."

"What? That's so weird." Eddie reaches over the freezer to accept her ice cream.

"Um, can I have a single of cookie dough in a cup?"

"Hmm? No, he wants a double," Eddie tells the girl.

"But Eddie -"

"Get a double," she urges.

Jamie gives the waiting attendant an apologetic look. "Double, I guess. Thank you."

"Anyway - different competitions have different events? That's the dumbest thing I ever heard," Eddie scoffs. "It doesn't make sense. Every high school swim meet is the same. It's all regulated."

"Well, yeah, the big tournaments are regulated. But the smaller ones that aren't official…"

Jamie takes his ice cream and watches awkwardly as Eddie presents the gift certificates. He wonders if he should offer to pay - he's never let a girl pay on a date before - but maybe the procedure is different since really the ice cream is free…

Before he can say anything one way or the other, Eddie's done at the register and they choose a tiny round table next to the window.

"So basically what they're doing today is like a scrimmage," she says, adjusting her fleece jacket over the school uniform she still wears. "Practice. It doesn't count for anything."

"Yeah, exactly."

"Well I hope our underclassmen beat St. Agnes anyway." She uses a spoon to dig away at the ice cream cradled inside her cone. "Is St. Agnes good?"

"At debate? Yeah, they're our biggest competitor in the borough." He focuses on his cup of cookie dough, much more than he wants to eat, and scoops out a huge bite - suddenly self-conscious at how much he's talked about debate, imagining how bored Eddie must be at all this dumb information.

"When do you compete next?"

"Me? Um, in two weeks," he manages around his mouthful of food. "There's a big tournament at Hunter College - but you're not invited. I don't think I want you showing up to watch me debate."

"Aw, why not?" Eddie teases, eyes glinting as she grins around the upside-down spoon sticking out of her mouth. "Worried you'll embarrass yourself?"

"Not at all," he scoffs. "But I won't need you critiquing my arguments for three weeks afterwards, thank you very much."

"So it _is_ all about arguing!"

He starts to respond but gives up, just laughing with her instead. She helps herself to some of his ice cream - no wonder she insisted he order a double - and the brief silence between them doesn't seem to bother her the way it does Jamie. It's not awkward, exactly, but he wants to fill it.

"What time's your pasta party?"

"Six."

"And what _is_ a pasta party anyway?"

"Carbs."

"Hmm?"

"Carbs. Pasta and bread, basically, so we're ready to go for the meet tomorrow. Gotta fuel up, you know? And Coach reads off the meet sheet so we know what we're swimming."

"What do you mean, what you're swimming?"

"Which events," Eddie answers. "Like I'm usually in the 200 medley relay and the hundred breast but - wait." An amused grin breaks across her face. "Do you know anything about swimming?"

"I took swim lessons when I was little," he says, adopting a mock defensive tone. "And I watched the Atlanta Olympics…"

"Oh my God," she mutters, holding back giggles. "Well, high school isn't quite like the Olympics but…"

"You mean they don't have a world record line chasing you down the pool?"

"Chasing _me_ , maybe, but not the rest of those losers."

"Are you actually... _that_ good?" He hesitates to ask but he can never tell how much of her talk is just _talk_.

"Haven't you ever read the record boards up in the gym? I'm the fastest breaststroker our school has ever had."

"Whoa."

"It's a little bit of a big deal," she sniffs. "But nobody cares about the swim team anyway, it's fine…"

"That's really cool."

"Hey, you know we swim against St. Agnes tomorrow night."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. So you should find out who wins the debate thing today, and then come to the meet tomorrow and see which team is better at beating our rivals."

"I don't even know if anyone's keeping score of the debates though."

"So it's the swim team by default -"

"No-"

Eddie crumples up the napkin she used to hold her now-finished cone and pulls Jamie's dish across the table. "But if there's no winner for debate -"

"What if the swim team loses tomorrow?" he demands.

"We won't."

"Okay, but how do you -"

"I wouldn't follow up an ice cream date with a swim meet date unless I knew it would be just as fun, and if it's going to be just as fun then we have to win."

"What?"

"We have to win," she repeats, though he's sure she knows that's not the part he wants clarified. "So you'll be there right? The pool at the Union Athletic Club, five o'clock."

"Um, uh, yeah, I'll see what my family's doing, but I can probably go."

"So you'll be there."

"What, are you going to barge into my house and drag me there if I don't show up?"

"Maybe," she taunts. "I know where you live…"

"Then I guess I'd better."

"Good. The team always gets dinner after at the diner over there. It'll be fun."

Jamie nods in agreement as Eddie finishes the last bite of his dessert. "Only if you promise you'll win. I don't hang out with losers, Janko."

"Well lucky for you, Jamie. Come on, I'm done, are you ready?"

"Yeah." He stands up and takes their trash while Eddie puts her coat on. They leave the warmth of the ice cream parlor and head back the way they came, where Jamie knows Eddie will jump on the subway to get home. Suddenly he wishes he had his own car so he could offer to drive her home, extend their time by a few extra minutes...

"So are you glad you did it?" she asks.

"Did what?"

"Skipped the debate to hang out with me."

He feels the smile tug at his cheek and he doesn't resist it, letting it surface as he laughs. "We'll see on Monday how bad my coach gets on me for leaving -"

"Hey!" She bumps into his side and he lets himself fall a few steps off course. "You better say yes."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I'll push you into the pool tomorrow."

"Not necessary." He meets her gaze, an uncharacteristic mischief bubbling in his own eyes, and he knows she knows his answer.


	14. Chapter 14

_Saturday_

Jamie hurries into the rec center lobby to escape the cold, but he stops short once he gets inside. He has to pause to look around and he wonders, not for the first time, why he came - he knows nothing about swimming or meets or how on earth he's supposed to find the pool in this place.

"Can I help you?" the desk attendant calls.

He realizes she's talking to him so he steps over. "I'm here for the swim meet."

The attendant waves a hand down the main hallway. "Back there and to your right," she says. "You don't have to pay as long as you're just here for the meet."

"Thanks." He heads through the wide atrium, turns right, and finally sees signs directing him to the pool.

Humidity and chlorine and earsplitting echoes assault Jamie's senses and his eyes can barely process the flurry of fast-moving color on the pool deck. He stops just inside the door and looks over at the starting blocks, where the swimmers are finishing their warm-up with 25-yard sprints. Jamie can't see who instructs them but someone must be in charge as one group dives off the blocks and the next group steps up, following behind a couple seconds later. They enter the water in graceful unison that gives way to what looks like choppy splashing as they propel themselves to the other end of the pool. There they smoothly lift themselves onto the deck for the drippy march past Jamie back to the crowd behind the starting blocks.

Parents climb onto metal bleachers facing the starting blocks across the pool, and those who don't want to jockey for those seats settle for the bleachers along the side, parallel to the lanes. Jamie heads there – he can tell that the vantage point isn't as good, but he doesn't really know what he's looking at anyway, so he decides it doesn't matter.

The two teams finish warming up and gather across the pool from Jamie, where each team gives a screaming chant of a cheer. The noise in this place is getting to him already, giving him a headache, and the off-key national anthem singer who follows the cheers just makes it worse.

He has no idea why he's here. In identical green race suits and swim caps and goggles he can't tell any of the swimmers apart. He has no idea how he'll be able to spot Eddie, much less know when she's swimming.

With that realization Jamie sits and stares, only minimally paying attention to the races that happen in front of him. Around him everyone is really into it and so are the swimmers in the team area across the pool, screaming, cheering – whatever Jamie expected the meet to be, it wasn't this _loud_. He wonders if the swimmers can even hear anything underwater, if there's a point to all the yelling.

Half the spectators have the same gridded paper with font too small for Jamie to read from over their shoulders. But he picks one up that's left behind when someone leaves the bleachers. He's delighted to discover that it's a meet sheet, listing all the events and the swimmers and lane assignments for each race. He scans through it, looking for Eddie's name. He's already missed one of her races but he sees her swim the 100 freestyle – at the beginning he's quiet but it's a close race between Eddie and the opposing swimmer in the next lane, and by the end he's screaming along with everyone else when Eddie _just_ touches the wall a split second ahead of the other girl. Eddie peels her swim cap off, letting down her hair so she's finally actually recognizable, and she shakes the other girl's hand as the slower swimmers finish the race.

Two events later the meet pauses for a ten-minute break. The bleacher crowd thins out and swimmers wander out of the team areas. Jamie stays put, studying his meet sheet to make sure he won't miss Eddie's last two races, lost in his concentration –

"Jamie! You're here!"

He looks up and there's Eddie, wet hair piled on top of her head, an enormous towel draped over her shoulders as she reaches up to take a long sip from her water bottle.

"Yeah – hi," he says.

"I didn't think you came! What're you doing sitting over here by yourself?"

"I – I've just been watching –" he stammers, unsure why she asked.

"No, come hang out with us! On the other side of the pool – it's not like anyone's going to kick you out."

"Is that allowed?"

"Nobody's going to kick you out," she repeats. "Come on!" She motions him down from his seat with one hand before she turns to shout at her friend, who Jamie didn't recognize with a wet bun and no makeup. "Lauren, look who's here!"

Lauren finishes talking to who Jamie assumes are her parents and steps over as Jamie steps off the bleacher bench. "Jamie! Don't you have homework or something?"

Jamie gives an uneasy chuckle. "Um, no, with the calc project done…"

"God, I was kidding, but leave it to _you_ to be serious about homework on a weekend." Lauren reaches for the corner of Eddie's towel to wipe off her face, and Eddie just shrugs it off one shoulder and offers her the whole thing.

"I was just saying he should come over with us for the second half –" Eddie says, but Jamie barely hears her – something about her bare legs, the flare of her hips, the way her swimsuit is cut high on the bones there to reveal the – the _muscle_ of her rear end… unlike the boxy school uniforms or the sweats he usually sees her in, the skintight material of her suit leaves little to the imagination and all of a sudden his is running wild. Sure, she showed him a picture of herself and a teammate from that weird Christmas swim meet in Jersey, but – he didn't have to have a conversation with the barely-clothed Eddie in the picture.

Before he knows it, Eddie chirps, "Let's go!" and he has no choice but to follow her – pointedly focusing his eyes on the circle cutout on her back no matter how much they try to drift lower – around the perimeter of the pool to the team area on the other side.

"Are you sure I'm allowed over here?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's not like a basketball game or something where you can only get to the bench if you're on the team." She pauses in response to his puzzled look. "Or – like for your debate things, where you sit in the front row in the auditorium when it's not your turn, but anyone else can come sit with you if they want, it's not off-limits. Two swimmers who graduated last year were over to see us earlier..."

"What does debate have to do with this?"

"Just trying to explain it in a way you'll understand," she giggles, and Jamie doesn't think she's as funny as she seems to believe but he laughs anyway because the way her eyes sparkle under the ugly fluorescent lights has him powerless.

"If I get in trouble I'm blaming you."

"I can handle that," Eddie accepts. "As long as you don't go any-"

" _Oh my God! It's Jamie!_ "

He looks just in time to see a girl in a damp blue St. Agnes t-shirt and no pants nearly crash into Eddie.

"You didn't tell me he was coming!" the girl wails, edging out an elbow to nudge Eddie sideways into Lauren. "You have to warn me about these things, Eddie! I would've brought a permanent marker –"

"A permanent marker?"

"Yeah, to ask for his autograph, because the way you guys talk about him is like he's famous and important – hi, Jamie, I'm Alicia. Nice to meet you."

Flustered, Jamie automatically extends his hand to shake hers. "Uh, hi…?"

"Alicia is on our other team with us – the Barracudas," Eddie explains. "And she's _way too nosy_."

"It's Jamie's fault for coming to see you when your school is swimming against my school," Alicia says.

"Guess I should've told you to come next week," Eddie shrugs, still playful and oblivious to how out of place Jamie feels as the only dry, clothed person in the immediate vicinity.

"No, I needed to meet you!" Reaching around Eddie, Alicia grabs Jamie's arm and tugs him to the benches littered with athletes' bags. She pushes him down there when his knees hit the metal. "I have to talk to you myself, look out for my friend, you know?" She backs up to stand above him, crossing her arms though she doesn't exactly look menacing. "Tell me, what are your intentions-?"

"Get out of here. Aren't you in the five hundred?" Eddie shoves Alicia away and she heads towards her own team's bench with a little over-the-shoulder wave and a promise that she's not done yet.


	15. Chapter 15

_Take your mark_.

At the chirp of the start signal Eddie explodes off the block, channeling all her strength through her legs until her hands and arms and head break the surface. Underwater she glides with her momentum for a second before pulling her hands down to her hips, propelling her body until she rises and executes a perfect breaststroke kick. It sends her into a fast but relaxed rhythm, her tempo maintained by her coach's sharp, distinctive barks over the noise bouncing around the air above the pool with every breath she takes – _Goo – goo – goo –_

Her mathematical mind automatically starts counting her strokes. It's how she knows if she swims a good race – when she's swimming long and powerful and fast she takes fewer strokes to cross the pool, but if her body shortens and her movements get quick and choppy and her count goes up, she loses her power and her time suffers.

At the first turn she can tell she's keeping a good pace as she pushes off the wall and completes her pullout. The St. Agnes girl next to her in lane 5 - Carly Shupp, a talented senior bound for the University of Louisville in the fall - is right on her tail and Eddie forces herself to look straight ahead despite the temptation to keep her competitor in her peripheral vision. Carly has challenged and pushed Eddie for years and now would be a great time to finally beat her - something that has only happened twice, and by a thin margin each time -

At the second turn Eddie is still ahead by half a body length, but her excellent start only carries her so far. She pushes exhausted muscles to keep working but the second half of the race is always hardest for her, while Carly seems to get faster as she goes. They hit the wall for their third turn at the same moment. Eddie can see her now. Her lungs scream in protest as she forces herself into the longest pullout she can manage before breaking the surface with a gasp and ducking her head back underneath. Keeping focused, Eddie counts and forces herself to lengthen her strokes, stretching her small body to its full height with each glide, resisting the urge to get short and scrappy because even if it _feels_ faster, it'll cost her time. Coach's voice hits her each time she surfaces and she feels the resistance straining against her arms with each pull and normally this is where Carly shoots way out ahead but Eddie stays with her this time, pushing, forcing herself forward, eight strokes, nine, ten, she blocks out all the noise except Coach chanting her rhythm as she closes in on the wall, squinting straight ahead as she sees the timers lean down with their stopwatches and she pushes into one last stretch and her fingers bend back against the wall with the force of her momentum as her feet drop and her head pops up, gasping for desperate breaths.

She lost.

Carly leans over the laneline, hand extended, and Eddie tags her palm. "Good race, Janko, nice job," she pants, and Eddie returns the sentiment before ducking underwater to pull her cap off and let the water cool her burning face.

Thirty more seconds pass while she waits for the other six swimmers to finish and by then the race adrenaline is gone, leaving Eddie with limp noodle arms that can barely hoist her body onto the pool deck. She wishes luck to her team's boys waiting for the next event behind the starting blocks and hurries to meet with Coach.

Coach holds up his stopwatch and an enthusiastic pumping fist as Eddie nears him. "One-oh-four!" he calls. "One-oh-four! Great race, Eddie, great swim. We'll see what your official time is - by my watch you just broke your own school record by almost half a second - go get a drink, great job."

Grinning, Eddie moves into the team area where Jamie and Lauren wait. Lauren hands her a towel and a water bottle, demanding, "What'd you swim? You were so close to beating Carly!"

"Didn't ask for - my official - time," Eddie manages after a gulp of water. "But Coach timed me at 1:04-something."

"1:04?" Lauren repeats. "You'll medal at States with that, girl! Awesome!"

"Did you say 1:04? Eddie! Damn!"

Eddie deflates with a breathless giggle as Alicia comes over, a look of proud disbelief on her face.

"Fastest I've gone this year is 1:05:70 so - shaved off a full second-"

"But you lost," Jamie remarks. "That other girl beat you by half a second - I thought you weren't a loser, Eddie."

"You don't _understand_ ," Lauren informs him. "Carly Shupp has a full ride to one of the best swimming schools in the country - sometimes you have to go for your own time..."

Eddie's breathing finally starts to even out and she manages a weary sneer in Jamie's direction. "Yeah, _Jamie_ , sometimes you have to go for your own time-"

"I don't know, Eddie, I don't hang out with losers so you better pick it up, get it together…"

Whatever comeback starts to form in Eddie's head gets knocked right back out by that ridiculous lopsided smirk on his face. She flings her goggles at his chest and swallows her giggles with a gulp of water that drags a shuddering chill through her overheated chest.

"Anyway - that was my last event, I'm done," she announces. "Give me those back, I want to warm down before -"

"Oh, these?" Jamie teases, holding her goggles above his head where she can't reach.

Her scoff of feigned irritation doesn't mask her laughter this time and she starts to stretch onto her toes to swipe for her goggles but a sudden slippery heaviness over her shoulders holds her down.

"Eddie! Great swim in that breaststroke - did I hear Carly say she went 1:03? And you were right there with her!"

Grinning, Eddie turns her head to look up at Craig. He's fresh out of the pool from the race following Eddie's, water dripping off his glistening skin as his chest heaves with his recovery. "Yeah, thanks," she says. "Here."

He accepts her water bottle and finishes it off while Lauren says, "Jamie, this is Craig - he swims with us on the Barracudas with Alicia-"

"Yeah, sorry!" Eddie chirps. "Craig, this is my friend Jamie from school. He came to watch!"

"Good to meet you." Craig pulls his arm off Eddie's shoulders and grasps a corner of her towel to dry his hand before shaking Jamie's.

"Craig's the artsy one I told you about - he's the one who did the flying ferry drawing," Eddie explains.

"Oh - _you're_ Jamie the partner!" Craig realizes. "Sorry, when Eddie told me she's working with someone named Jamie I thought she meant a girl. How'd it go, Ed?"

"Oh, we won! I thought I told you."

"Right, yeah - and the prize is ice cream, right? I think I should get that prize for my contribution-"

"Too late for that." Eddie catches Jamie's gaze with a meaningful smile but he meets her with dark, steely eyes and a hard clench of his jaw. That adorable smirk of his, the amusement lighting up his features since she dragged him off the bleachers an hour ago - it's all gone, replaced by a scowl with no hint of humor behind it.

She feels her own face melt and then scrunch in confusion.

Next to her, oblivious, Lauren asks Alicia and Craig if the St. Agnes swimmers plan to join them at the diner after the meet. "Leesh, you should come, definitely," she says. "You want to get to know Jamie, well, he's joining us..."

"Actually, uh, I'm not," Jamie utters. "I've gotta - I've gotta get home. Sorry, Lauren. I'll - I'll see you at school."

Eddie's brow furrows over widening eyes, realization flooding over her and she reaches for his arm. "Jamie - but I thought-"

But he doesn't even make eye contact with her - he just loops her goggles over her extended hand and turns out of the circle to walk away.


	16. Chapter 16

_**A/N:**_ _Happy Monday! Or...not-so-happy Monday after Friday's episode. I'm so sad about Linda's death and I wish they could've at least given her a proper goodbye - even Jackie got a decent farewell when her actress left the show._

 _Well. At least we got that adorable Jamko Hand Squeeze, which is sustaining me today. Things aren't so good for Jamie and Eddie here, though…_

* * *

The first door he sees leads to the men's locker room and he crashes through it, just desperate to be off the pool deck. How could he be so stupid? Of course he misread Eddie - of course she didn't mean _date_ date when she used the word at Pressey's yesterday. Of course there's another guy, of course he's taller than Jamie with chiseled swimmer muscles that Eddie spends two hours staring at before school every morning -

He emerges from the narrow hallway beyond the door into a maze of locker bays and stops with a frustrated groan. He doesn't know how to get out of here.

"Where are you going?"

Startled, Jamie turns and there's Eddie leaning against the tiled wall. "This is the men's room."

"Where are you going?" she repeats cheerfully. "Come on. The meet will be over in like twenty minutes and then we'll go eat-"

"I'm not going to eat. So leave me alone."

He shifts on his feet, ready to turn to find his way out of this place - but not before he sees the cloud of innocent confusion in Eddie's eyes. "Leave you alone? Jamie - what's wrong?"

The fact that she doesn't _get it_ irritates him even more and he can't restrain another groan as his hands fall limp with a thud against his thighs. "Who's Craig?" he demands. "And why didn't you tell me that _he's_ the one who drew the ferry?"

"I didn't think it mattered."

"You didn't think you should _tell me_ that you've got some St. Agnes boyfriend who does your homework for you and -"

"He's not my boyfriend! And he didn't - he doesn't do my homework for me! He's a friend. He's good at drawing. So I asked him to help me and he did and we _won_! What's your problem?" she demands, loud and defensive now as her hands plant themselves on her hips just above the cut of her swimsuit. But he doesn't let his eyes fall because he refuses to let anything derail his swirling thoughts.

"My problem is he thinks he's part of it, he thinks he's getting ice cream from _our_ project!"

"He's joking around, Jamie! We used the money yesterday - _you and me_ \- he's not getting anything."

"He didn't look like he was joking around," Jamie mutters.

"Well, he was," she insists. "We had to win, Jamie! I wanted to win. So I just asked him for a favor. I didn't think you'd care who made the drawing."

"That's a theme with you, isn't it," Jamie says dryly. "It's always what _you_ want, it's always about Eddie and it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks."

The confusion that had given way to stubborn anger resurfaces in the line of Eddie's forehead. "Is this - are you _jealous_? Are you jealous of Craig? Really? I just swam my best race all season, broke the school record _again_ , and you're mad that he congratulated me? Is that why you're walking out?"

Jamie crosses his arms over his chest and ignores the fact that she's basically right. "You didn't tell me the truth! You see him at practice every day, right? So how do I know-?"

"It is not fair for you to be jealous of Craig," Eddie snaps. "He's just a friend! You didn't see me getting pissed about Theresa Mancini all over you at your house on New Year's Eve and I'm not stupid, Jamie, everyone knows you and her used to date."

"Yeah, for like a month, but it was a long time ago and there's nothing going on anymore. She was _not_ all over me at New Year's!"

"She looked like she wanted to be! It was annoying as hell but have I ever complained about how much time you spend with her at debate?"

"It's not about Theresa!" Jamie cries. "It's about how you only ever think about yourself."

"That's not true!"

"You always have to be the center of attention," he continues. "You think you're so great, you think you're so funny because you goof off all the time and you don't take anything seriously-"

"I take stuff seriously!"

"No you don't, Eddie! You don't _think_. You just do whatever you want all the time!"

She rolls her eyes, punctuating with an incredulous scoff. "I do not."

"Right, because it's always a good idea to burst into the auditorium when I'm in the middle of something important that I told you about _all week_ and force me to leave-"

"I didn't force you-"

"It's the same thing you've been doing in math ever since break, trying to be the center of attention and maybe you're some kind of freaking math genius or whatever but some of us want to actually _learn_ in class-"

"I don't try to be the center of-"

" _Stop interrupting me_!"

Eddie snaps her mouth shut and her fiery eyes and clenching teeth give away how hard she works to keep quiet when he continues. "You're immature. And annoying. And demanding," he lists. "I thought we liked each other but you act like I'm just some game. Like I don't really matter to you. And I don't care how much you-"

He chokes on his words because he's about to head down the path of his own feelings for her - or at least the feelings he remembers having up until they swirled down the drain a few minutes ago, chased out by his frustration and anger and yes, jealousy, but even if jealousy is what prompted him to walk away at the beginning of this whole thing it hardly seems like the biggest issue now. He means the things he's said. Eddie's spark, that personality and her take-no-prisoners attitude that irritated him all school year until that switch flipped and she drew him in like a moth to an irresistible light - well, the switch has flipped back now, and he finds that he has spent too long staring at the light, enamored by it, and it's left him blind.

"Do you think I would share ice cream with you if you didn't matter to me?" she asks, her quiet voice a foil to his re-escalating one. "Do you think I'd - I'd invite you to a swim meet? Or look for you in the halls at school all the time...?"

Jamie's jaw goes slack and he feels his shoulders drop, all the tension giving way to disbelief that _that's_ her best argument. But she trails off as the pool door opens behind her and one of her teammates - a senior Jamie knows from cross country - appears.

"Janko, how many times we gotta tell you that your locker room is the _other_ one?" he jokes, smacking a playful hand on the back of her shoulder as he edges past her. "Reagan, hi! I didn't know you came to swim meets."

Jamie manages a tight-lipped smile as the senior disappears around the corner to the urinals. The insinuation that Eddie's been caught in the men's room before isn't lost on him and he wonders what else she's been hiding beside Craig - but he only entertains the uneasy thought for a brief second before forcing it away.

"I don't care how much ice cream you buy," he says, regrouping, keeping his voice down now that there's someone in earshot. "Or how many notes you pass up in math class or anything. I don't - I don't want - I'm not going to be a part of this."

The noise from the pool deck leaks in again as somebody else opens the door. But Jamie doesn't stay around to see who it is.

"Hey - what're you doing in here?" a male voice asks behind Jamie's back as he walks away.

"I'm leaving," he hears Eddie reply. "I'm going."

He weaves around the locker room for another moment, searching for a way out that doesn't involve the pool deck when he hears Eddie again.

"I thought you could learn how to have fun, Jamie!" she calls. "I thought you could figure out how to have a good time."

She pauses.

"Guess not."


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N** : Thanks for being patient! I haven't had much free time this week - newborns are a great time/energy sucker, and this one was a surprise. I couldn't really plan/write ahead with 12 hours' notice! Currently accepting volunteers to come hold the little peanut so I can take a nap. Or write… yes, write…_

* * *

 _Monday_

"Would you snap out of it already?"

"What?" Eddie says, blinking her focus back to Lauren instead of the open classroom door she's stared at so long she zoned out.

"Get your act together," Lauren hisses. "So you got rejected. That sucks. But it's been over a week and that's the limit for moping about a guy that was never even your official boyfriend."

"I'm not moping."

"Sitting here just waiting for him to get to class so he can ignore you some more is pretty much moping."

"Leave me alone."

With an aggravated sigh, Eddie slumps down in her seat and looks back at the door of Ms. Chapple's classroom just in time to see Jamie in the hallway outside. He pauses next to the door, his back toward Eddie, and she thinks she sees him duck his head briefly before turning and coming inside. She doesn't miss the guilty satisfaction on his reddened face - or Theresa Mancini's unmistakable dark curls bouncing off down the hallway.

She inhales deeply through her nose and nearly breaks the skin inside her bottom lip from biting so hard. It's all she can do to keep from saying something rude that would annoy Lauren and, if Jamie heard too, make this whole situation worse.

It's been nine days since Jamie stormed out of her swim meet.

A week since she waited by his locker before school, forcedly cheerful as if nothing happened, only to have him roll his eyes and tell her six minutes before the late bell that he couldn't be tardy for class.

Five days since she first saw Theresa practically hanging off his arm, giggling like an idiot while he tried not to look too pleased with himself.

And now, apparently, they walk each other to class and kiss goodbye as if they won't see each other again in 47 minutes.

Eddie hates it. All of it. But she'd rather channel her energy into anger and jealousy about Jamie and Theresa than let herself be dragged into the spiral of insecurity Jamie tried to throw her into in that locker room.

She'd rather hate him than herself.

She's always walked a fine line between having complete and utter confidence in herself and - _not_. She doesn't like to admit it, how easily her self-esteem crumbles in the right circumstances. When she was younger it was her parents who had that effect. They seem to think nothing she does is worth their attention - hell, their only acknowledgement of her record-setting race last week was a quick "Nice swim, kid!" from her dad when she told him the next day - and it's no secret that she's never lived up to her mother's idea of a well-behaved, poised, proper daughter. She's used to it by now. She's _embraced_ it. Every displeased sigh is comforting assurance that she isn't _like_ _them_ \- fake, obsessed with optics, money, status. She doesn't hide her confidence or her personality for the sake of good impressions.

What she never expected was that within five minutes, Jamie Reagan - one of the kindest people she knows - could send her back to the mindset she was so resolved to get out of: nervous, uncomfortable with herself, fearful of what others will think of her if she makes one wrong move. In her mind he attacked everything she is, her very essence - and she hasn't learned to block out his opinion because, well, it matters to her.

So she's angry at him. It's better that way - it's easier to act like herself, even if that's not who she feels like right now. But she's determined to make that feeling temporary. She is who she is and she likes who she is and she refuses to let a stupid boy make her question that.

"Before we get started," Ms. Chapple says, "I wanted to let you all know that Mrs. Dunbar, who's in charge of admissions and community outreach, loved seeing all your projects on display at the open house over the weekend. It's great for prospective students and parents to see the creative ways we use math to address real problems…"

Up front, Thomas leans over to whisper something that makes Jamie shake his head. Two weeks ago Eddie would've taken his distraction as her cue to stand up and deliver all the chalk that had mysteriously found its way from the tray at the bottom of the blackboard to her desk as she walked into class. But that would be _immature_ and _annoying._ So today the chalk stays where it belongs. So does the eraser. And she sits quietly in her usual seat, her own pencil in her hand as she waits for Ms. Chapple to get this show on the road.

* * *

"Do I have to separate you two?"

"Sorry," Theresa giggles. She squeezes Jamie's hand before she slides her fingers free, leaving him with a lingering wordless smile as she tucks her hands into her lap.

"Hands to yourselves, my kindergartener knows this stuff, guys," Mr. Miller, the American history teacher slash debate coach, scolds. "Anyway. Nice work today from our first guinea pigs, it's not easy having to learn everything there is to know about a topic in half an hour and then present on it. The next two pairs will go tomorrow and we'll be able to get everyone that practice with the impromptu format. Sound good? Okay. Get out of here - except Matthew, come here, I want to talk with you before you leave…"

As soon as Mr. Miller turns away, Theresa's hand finds its way back to Jamie's. "Can you ask him?" she whines. "Please?"

"Ask who what?"

"Mr. Miller if we can switch partners!"

"He had to submit the entries for next weekend like, two weeks ago," Jamie reminds her, swallowing a sigh at her mention of a subject he thought they'd left behind last week. "I don't think he can change it now."

"But for all the other tournaments!" She drags her fingertips lightly up his arm, fiddles with the rolled cuff of his uniform sleeve before moving back down to play with his fingers. "For the rest of the school year. Qualify for states together, get to go to Buffalo, stay in a hotel…"

"Thomas and I already qualified, Theresa."

"And then there's next year," she croons. "Senior year, we could be partners from the start."

"Yeah, maybe next year," he offers. "But I'm staying with Thomas for the rest of this year."

"He won't mind switching!"

Jamie tugs his arm free and stands up to get ready to leave. "It just doesn't make sense to switch so late. We've already got, like, a routine and stuff. We're good partners."

"We're good partners too!" She recaptures his hand with one of hers and wraps her opposite fingers around his biceps. "We've got a connection, right? Why do we have to wait til next year?"

"Because Thomas is my partner this year." He squirms away from her again to unroll his sleeves so he can put his coat on. "No need to change things up."

Theresa props out her lower lip in the same dramatic pout she affected the other day when they first had this discussion. "We can change things up for the better! Please, will you just ask?"

"Not right now."

"So tomorrow?" she chirps. "Alright, I can wait - just for you, Jamie."

Before he can amend his refusal into a harder _no_ , she reaches up and pulls his face down between her hands to plant three quick little kisses on his lips. Then, with that same weird finger-waggling over-the-shoulder wave, she slings her bag onto her back and sashays out of the classroom.


	18. Chapter 18

_Tuesday_

Jamie hates impromptu format debates. _Hates_ them. He's a planner, an organizer, a meticulous thinker. But those traits don't help him much when someone hands him a topic, a binder of random articles about it, and a thirty-minute timer, expecting him to come up with an argument cohesive enough to beat his opponent. Half an hour is never enough time to learn all he wants to know and he always feels like he's blindly floundering his way through his presentation, just hoping that the other guys flounder _worse_.

Usually that's what happens. Usually Jamie wins. He's not _bad_ at impromptu format debates, after all. He just hates them.

Their topic for today's practice debate is _elementary schools should eliminate recess in favor of more classroom instruction time_. Jamie and Thomas are the proposition side, arguing in favor of the motion against Theresa and her partner Ethan.

"Time," Mr. Miller announces, cutting Ethan off mid-sentence. "Proposition, you have thirty seconds to formulate your closing argument. Remember you only have one minute to close, not two."

Jamie glances up at the abridged time format outlined on the blackboard while Thomas mutters something about hating how Mr. Miller shortens the time limits during practice.

"Shut up and find that stat about schools in China," Jamie orders in a strained whisper. "We should go from there…"

"Start there, yeah, and then we need to bring up that quote about how music and art class are good for creativity. Creativity was their whole argument, so..."

"This'll be easy - you're right, they didn't make any strong points," Jamie realizes. "We can basically restate our opening argument, add the art class quote and we win."

"They're not on their game," Thomas agrees.

Jamie chuckles as he scribbles down a couple of bulleted notes in his usual shorthand. "It's almost like they're trying to-"

"Time," Mr. Miller says. "Begin-"

"Trying to what?" Thomas whispers.

"Lose," Jamie smirks. This is too easy.

"-your closing argument," Mr. Miller finishes.

Jamie starts and he and Thomas alternate, each reiterating certain important points to close out their argument with perfect fluidity. It's part of why they make such good partners - their combined speaking skills work in their favor against opponents who stumble through awkward transitions and extended pauses between each team member's turn to speak.

It's a skill Mr. Miller has emphasized incessantly since Jamie's freshman year. Good arguments become bad arguments when they're presented poorly, he always says, so he spends a lot of practice time leading silly exercises to improve each partnership's ability to speak as a team. That's why it strikes Jamie as odd when Ethan and Theresa's closing statement goes about as well as the rest of their arguments. They're disjointed. Theresa does little more than repeat what Ethan says - she doesn't supplement his arguments with any points of her own.

Mr. Miller catches it too. "I want you all to notice something," he says. "Did you see how Jamie and Thomas organized information during the research phase? Everything was right within reach, easy to find when they had to prepare their counters, so they can focus on a nice, smooth delivery. Now I know how hard it is, but I want everyone to have a system. Organize your approach and practice your transitions. Got it? We don't like choppy, we don't like repeating each other too much. But we'll keep working on it. Okay?"

An organizational problem. That _almost_ makes sense. Jamie knows it wasn't a lack of information that caused Theresa and Ethan's disappointing performance - both teams got the same resource articles at the beginning of their thirty-minute prep period and Jamie saw more pro-recess points in there than arguments in favor of removing it - and it _is_ hard to manage all the information in such a short amount of time. Still, Theresa and Ethan have been partners as long as Jamie and Thomas. Other than that time Ethan had food poisoning at the first debate competition of sophomore year, Jamie hasn't seen them look this out of sync since those early practices in ninth grade.

"Theresa, Ethan, I'd like to see you before you leave," Mr. Miller continues. "Everyone else, you're free to go. Remember, tomorrow Luke and Hannah will be going against Zach and Kyle and everyone else, same drill, you'll help them out during the preparation phase. Have a good night!"

"Wait for me?" Theresa says, her voice high and girly as she blinks at Jamie with enormous dark eyes.

Jamie nods and takes his things into the hallway so Mr. Miller can talk to them in private. He slowly checks his backpack, making sure he has all of tonight's homework, and adjusts his jacket as the minutes pass.

After the rest of the debate team clears out, a sudden flood of voices drifts in from around the corner. A second later Jamie recognizes the members of the swim team crossing to the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall. He watches - they aren't usually on campus this late so they must have had a team meeting - and it's as though he forgets everything for a moment when he sees Eddie, neck arched back in loud laughter at whatever the tall freshman next to her is saying. He zeroes in on her without thinking, her amusement reaching his ears over the rest of the vague conversations -

"Ready?"

Jamie clears his throat and lets the sound of Eddie's laughter drift away down the stairs. "Yeah, yeah…"

"See ya tomorrow," Ethan says.

Theresa lets out an exaggerated sigh and takes Jamie's hand as they trail Ethan towards the stairs.

"You alright?" Jamie says.

"I'll tell you in a minute," she offers cryptically.

They walk in silence until they get outside, when Jamie finally asks, "What did Coach say?"

Theresa sucks in another deep breath followed by a loud groan. "Ugh - basically told us how bad we did and how we can forget about states and nationals."

"What? He said that?"

"Well - not exactly, but he doesn't think Ethan and I are on the same page and we won't win anything if we aren't on the same page."

"You guys did seem a little off today," Jamie offers.

"It's Ethan!" Theresa cries. "He's so hard to work with - I need a partner who _gets_ me, you know?"

Jamie tries not to roll his eyes at how she's snuck the partner switch topic back into their conversation. "You've been with Ethan forever. You're better off staying with him than trying to work with someone else when there are only four tournaments left to qualify for states."

"If it's not working then it's not working," she declares.

"I think it was just one bad practice," Jamie says. "Impromptu debates are hard. You'll be fine." He doesn't add that from his view, Ethan did well - Theresa was the one who brought them down during practice.

"I just - I don't think I'll make it to nationals this year if I'm stuck with Ethan," she sighs.

"There's always next year."

"But college applications are this fall! I just really hoped I'd have a trip to debate nationals under my belt by then, you know? I have to get into Yale, Jamie, all the top pre-law applicants have huge things on their resumes - how'm I supposed to do that with Ethan for a partner? You saw how bad we were today-"

She tugs at his arm, begging, and suddenly it all clicks.

"Is that what this is?" he demands.

"What _what_ is?"

"This is all because you think if you're my partner I'll carry us to nationals and you'll get into Yale. Isn't it?"

"What? No, Jamie!" she giggles, a high-pitched sound that all but confirms Jamie's suspicion. "I just think we're so great together outside of debate, we'd be great together onstage too-"

"You screwed up on purpose today," he realizes. "What, did you think one loss - where _you_ were obviously the problem - would convince me that we should compete together?"

"I wasn't the problem!" she insists. "We've been teammates for three years, Jamie, you know I'm better than him-"

"You weren't better than him today. And if you think I'd ever want to be your partner after a performance like _that_ -"

"You just said - it was _one_ bad practice!"

Glancing down, Jamie remembers that they're still holding hands and he brings them up, bending both their elbows with a pointed look at their intertwined fingers before he opens his to drop hers. "You don't even like me, do you," he accuses. "You're just using me because of Yale."

"I do like you!" she cries, reaching for his hand as he dodges out of her way. "Of course I like you!"

"Then you'd be honest with me and just ask for help instead of trying to manipulate me to get what you want."

"I didn't want you to think I'm stupid."

"I didn't used to," he tells her. "But losing a debate on purpose - even just practice - that's pretty stupid. It's definitely not how you get into Yale."

"Sometimes you have to play dirty," she shrugs. "You wouldn't know about that, would you? You're like Saint Jamie Reagan. Whatever, I'll still get into Yale. And you can go to cop school like your brothers and maybe someday I'll see you in court when I make five hundred dollars an hour and you're stuck in a shitty studio apartment in Queens!"

Jamie arches an unbothered eyebrow as she leaves him with a huff and heads for the subway. This isn't exactly how he planned for today to end. But rather than the unsettled queasiness that bugged him for four days after he yelled at Eddie in the men's room at her swim meet, he feels a distinct sense of relief as Theresa walks away. Sure, she chased out that cloud that Eddie left behind - but it took all of twenty-four hours for Jamie to remember why they broke up the first time around. Two years later, nothing has changed and he's glad to be rid of her -

As he reaches the train platform he glances around to see if Eddie is still here - she wasn't that far in front of him, after all. Compared to Theresa's shady manipulative tendencies, Eddie's blatant up-front honesty sounds like a welcome, refreshing change of pace. But he doesn't see her, and the southbound R train waits with open doors.

He rushes forward, clearing through just before they close.


	19. Chapter 19

_Friday_

"What are you doing? That floor is gross, kiddo," Ms. Chapple says.

"Conserving energy," Eddie explains from her position flat on her back on the ground next to Ms. Chapple's desk. "For districts tonight."

"You weren't conserving energy two minutes ago. Sit up and open this for me."

The teacher holds out the multi-pack of chalk she just grabbed from the faculty lounge down the hall until Eddie pushes herself back into a sitting position against the wall. She peels off the plastic and slowly piles the individual boxes into a stack in front of her crisscrossed legs. Ms. Chapple is obviously just trying to give her something to do, but Eddie doesn't mind helping out the only adult who actually listens to her and supports her lately.

"So… are you nervous for districts?"

"What? No. It's just districts."

"Then why so quiet? And why is this the what, fifth morning this week you've come in here just to sit on my floor? Are you still avoiding Jamie?"

"Not the fifth - I had to go to the dentist on Wednesday morning."

"Oh, of course, how could I miss that."

"Here I thought I was your favorite student but you didn't even miss me."

"Don't you have other people to sit on the floor with? Where's Lauren? And Jamie…?"

"I'm not avoiding Jamie. I have math questions."

"You haven't asked me a single homework question since Christmas break."

"You're my favorite teacher, Ms. Chapple! I can't just sit in here and absorb your greatness-?"

"Alright," Ms. Chapple drawls. "That's enough out of you. If you want Wednesday's quiz back today I have to finish grading the back page before fifth period…"

Eddie sighs and reaches up to accept Ms. Chapple's outstretched hand, using the leverage to pull herself to her feet. "Wait, but I actually do have a question."

"About math? Oh, imagine that! Okay, let's see what we have, and then you should get to first period."

"There's still fifteen minutes." Eddie rifles through her backpack and fishes out her math homework. "I can't figure out if I'm working negative or positive on the second optimization problem."

"Okay. Show me your setup and we'll see which direction we're headed."

Eddie picks up a piece of chalk and sketches the problem diagram on the board. Ms. Chapple perches against the edge of her desk and watches her work through it, giving small nudges while Eddie mostly figures it out on her own.

"Hang on - how fast is your shadow shrinking?" Ms. Chapple asks, pointing as Eddie miscopies a number from the previous line.

"Oh yeah, that should be a twelve…"

"Oh hey Eddie - is that the problem with the building shadow?"

Eddie's arm freezes in mid air when she hears Jamie's voice from the doorway.

"It is - do you have a question? Want to work through it with us?" Ms. Chapple asks.

"Sure, if that's okay. I couldn't figure out if the rate of change for the shadow is supposed to be positive or negative."

He offers Eddie a pleasant smile, which she doesn't return as he comes closer. Outside of math class she doesn't see him much at all, but every time they've crossed paths in the hall in the last few days he's smiled, said hello - yesterday he even caught up to her as she walked to calculus and asked her how swimming has been going. It's an odd contrast considering he didn't make eye contact or say two words to her for a week and a half before that.

She doesn't know what's changed, but whatever it is, she's skeptical.

"Eddie, since that's the same question you had, why don't you walk Jamie through what you did so he's caught up," Ms. Chapple suggests.

"Um, actually-" Eddie's gaze sweeps across her work on the board. "I think I can finish it by myself." She turns around to put her homework packet back into her bag. "Thanks for the help, Ms. Chapple. See you." Stepping around Jamie, she slings her bag over her shoulder and leaves the classroom.

* * *

"That was weird," Ms. Chapple remarks.

"Uh, yeah."

"You wanna tell me what's going on?"

"I think she's mad at me."

"I _know_ she's upset with you, Jamie," Ms. Chapple says. "She told me you said some not-so-nice things to her after you guys won the project contest. She's been in here almost every morning for two weeks - I think she's hiding out."

Jamie cringes at the thought of Eddie talking about him to their math teacher - he always knew she loves Ms. Chapple's class, but he didn't realize they talk about anything other than math. "Hiding out from me?" he manages, trying to swallow his embarrassment.

"Yes, you and that girlfriend of yours who you make out with outside my door - which I don't appreciate, by the way."

He feels the warmth rising up his cheeks faster than he can will it away. "Well, that won't happen anymore. Theresa's not my girlfriend."

"You broke up?"

"We were never officially togeth-" Jamie cuts himself off. "She's - I don't know what we were. I know her from debate but that's it."

"Doesn't seem like _that's it_ to me."

"It is now, trust me."

Ms. Chapple props her elbow on her knee and leans forward, chin in her hand to listen. "So what about Eddie then? I thought you two hit it off when you were project partners."

"We kind of did," Jamie admits. "But she's got a boyfriend at a different school-"

"You mean Craig Douglas?"

"You know Craig Douglas?"

"Not personally, but I know _about_ him. Eddie told me he drew the picture you used in your presentation."

"She did?"

The young teacher's short hair bobs around her face as she nods. "She did. And she _also_ told me you met Craig a couple weeks ago and you weren't very happy about it, even though she explained that they aren't dating. Hence the not-so-nice things."

"Um," Jamie says.

"But you're _not_ dating this other girl? Not dating, not making out in the hallways - none of that anymore?"

"No," he confirms.

"Does Eddie know that?"

"I don't - I'm sorry, do we have to talk about this? I just have a question on the building problem."

"I just want to hear your side," Ms. Chapple says. "I've heard Eddie's plenty but that's not the whole picture, is it? I saw the way your face changed when you walked in just now and saw her."

Jamie is too mortified to respond. He's used to this kind of questioning from his family. At last Sunday's dinner his brothers didn't stop ribbing him about Eddie the entire time, and rather than explain what happened and why he spent the last week of school kissing his first girlfriend again, he just let them go at it. But he has no idea what he's supposed to say to his math teacher about it all.

"Do you like her?" Ms. Chapple asks gently. "Do you like Eddie?"

"I…"

"Because whatever happened between you two, it's been hard on her. And if you can think of a way to make it… easier…"

"She doesn't want to talk to me," Jamie points out. "You just saw her leave - I've tried to talk to her a couple times in the last two days but she doesn't want to."

"Of course not, if she thinks she's still going to see another girl's tongue down your throat every time she turns a corner."

Jamie coughs and manages a hard swallow, barely masking his shock at her choice of words.

"Like I said - all I know is what she's told me," Ms. Chapple continues. "We've had a few chats about it and I've told her she probably has some things she can work on, her own stuff - but whatever this is, whatever happened, I think it's on you to fix it. Or _start_ fixing it, at least enough so you two can get to a point to work on your… friendship, relationship… together."

"I do want to be friends with her again, yeah. But she wants nothing to do with me so..."

"So find a way. If she won't talk to you at school then find her somewhere else."

Jamie lets out a loud sigh. "I'm not going to just show up to her apartment - can you just look at this real quick, please, so I can go to class?"

"No, not her apartment." Ms. Chapple takes his paper and starts to skim his work as she talks. "But I do know the district swim meet is tonight, and I also know that Eddie's parents won't be there, so she might appreciate having someone there to cheer her on."

"The district swim meet?"

"Yeah, districts, like the first round of the postseason before regionals and states. Ah, here's your problem, see? If you defined this direction as positive on your diagram, then what does that mean for the sign on this derivative? Draw in the axes if you have to."

"Oh - so it should be negative."

"Exactly."

"Alright. So if I switch that sign then everything else will work out the way it's supposed to. Yeah. Great. Okay - thanks, Ms. Chapple."


	20. Chapter 20

Jamie isn't one to change plans on his friends at the last minute. And all week he and Thomas have intended to hang out tonight - a vague agreement that started as a way to wiggle out of whatever Friday night scheme Theresa tried to rope him into, not that that matters now - but it's why Thomas sits next to Jamie on the crowded bleachers overlooking the pool deck twenty feet below.

Originally he only brought Thomas out of obligation but now Jamie is glad he's here - this meet is different than the other one he attended and when they arrived he quickly realized that his plan to find Eddie in the team area wouldn't work. No spectators are allowed on the pool deck here at the Brooklyn College aquatic facility because the deck is packed with seven swim teams from Catholic high schools in Brooklyn and Queens. And while the birds eye view from the balcony is much better for watching the races than being level with the pool like at the last meet, Thomas is not exactly impressed.

"How much longer?" he whines. "It's just the same thing, over and over and over…"

"Eddie's best event - the hundred breaststroke - it's close to the end. But after that we'll leave, alright?"

"How long until the hundred breaststroke?"

"I – I don't know. The last meet I went to was done in like an hour and a half but…"

"But we've already been here two hours," Thomas needlessly reminds him. He snatches the meet program Jamie is intently studying. "Give me that. I swear, if you're about to make me sit here for another two-"

"We're four events away from Eddie," Jamie retorts. He doesn't add that this meet has multiple heats of each event, rather than one heat each like regular season meets, and so those four events could take another hour to finish. He's made it this far – he's not about to leave now.

"What's the point? She doesn't even know you're here."

"I'll tell her at school."

"Tell her what? _Oh, hi Eddie, I had a great time secretly watching your swim meet this weekend_ -?"

"Shut up, no, just like… good job, probably, because she's really good - look at her time in here." He flips the page of the stapled program and easily finds Eddie's name, heat 1 of the women's 100 breaststroke, lane 4. Sliding his finger across the row he lands on her seed time. "She's the third fastest in the whole event."

"So we're staying so you can watch Eddie come in third?"

"No - she might win! This is the _district_ meet, Thomas, she'd be district champion for the event-"

"I don't understand you," Thomas declares. "Going back and forth with all these girls - you'll probably be back with Theresa by next weekend, I don't know why we're wasting our time-"

"No way, Theresa and I are done. Completely done."

"You've said that before about Theresa. And two weeks ago you were saying the same thing about Eddie and yet here we are."

"So?"

"So can't we just go? My ass is numb from these damn bleachers."

"Then get up and walk a lap before breaststroke starts," Jamie tells him. "Because we're staying."

* * *

 _Monday_

"Hey Eddie!"

Eddie glances up from the stack of photos that Lauren is sharing with her and a couple other teammates. She recognizes his voice - of course she does - but she still feels her brow wrinkle in confusion as a grinning Jamie approaches their small circle.

"Congratulations!" he announces, and Eddie just blinks in expectant bewilderment.

"On the breaststroke!" Jamie continues. "On winning!"

Eddie passes along the pictures she's holding - Lauren's mom photographed each top-8 finisher from their school receiving their all-district medal during the meet - and plants her hands on her hips. "What?"

His smile falters as he hastily explains, "I was at the meet on Friday - Thomas and I went - we saw your race. It was awesome."

"You were at districts?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"We - I - I wanted to see the meet," he offers.

Next to Eddie, Lauren raises her eyebrows with a suspicious sideways look that Eddie returns, saying, "Um, why? You didn't exactly have a good time at the last one."

"Yeah but -"

As he flounders Eddie suddenly finds herself extremely annoyed. "What about your girlfriend?" she snaps. "Did she come watch too?"

"My girlfr - you mean Theresa? She's not-"

"Because St. Agnes was there. Did you hear me cheering for Craig? He came in fourth in the IM. I think he's going to draw a picture of his medal-"

Lauren grabs Eddie's elbow and tugs. "Come on, you."

"Theresa's not my girlfriend," Jamie insists. "There's nothing going on anymore and-"

"And I don't know why you think I care."

Jamie sighs heavily, his eyes flitting uneasily around Eddie's entourage. "Can - can we talk?"

"We're talking now, aren't we?"

"Somewhere… quieter?"

Lauren lets go of Eddie's arm and turns to the others. "Hey, come on, let's go see if Coach picked up that t-shirt you lost, Hayley," she suggests. "Bye, Eddie."

"No, wait-" Eddie starts, but Lauren is already herding them away towards the classroom where their swim coach teaches English. With a resigned sigh she raises her eyebrows at Jamie. "What?"

"I - I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Eddie crosses her arms and leans one shoulder against the wall where they stand, sort of enjoying how he looks right now in spite of herself - his brows drawn together in obvious concern that strains his face so much he looks like a fish. After pausing a long beat to watch him squirm, she finally cocks her head. "Sorry for…?"

"Sorry for what happened a couple weeks ago."

"Could you be a little more specific?"

"I - uh - you know - at your swim meet, when Craig showed up and I…"

"And you what?"

"I was a jerk," he finally says. "I said a lot of things that aren't true. I didn't mean any of it."

"If you didn't mean any of it then why'd you say it?"

"Because - I don't know, I just did."

"You just _did_?"

His jaw clenches with a hard swallow and Eddie's gaze wanders to a point beyond his shoulder. She doesn't know why she's still standing here when he obviously doesn't have anything else to say - and what he has said isn't everything she wants to hear.

"Look," he finally says, his hands hovering in front of him to punctuate. "I - I really am sorry. I shouldn't have said any of those things."

"You're right," she agrees curtly. "You shouldn't."

"Yeah. So...are we okay?"

Eddie lets out a humorless chuckle. She wants him to admit he was jealous, say he overreacted to the news that the person who drew that stupid flying ferry happened to have a penis, assure her that every awful thing he said was totally unwarranted - maybe even promise that this weird thing with Theresa was nothing but a pathetic attempt at getting back at Eddie, at making her jealous.

But something tells her he still doesn't grasp just how deeply his words cut into her. And he probably never will. She won't get anything better than this. But at least it's something.

"Almost," she finally says. "Almost okay."

"Almost?" he echoes.

"Yeah," she muses. "We're almost okay."

He's still on edge, she can tell. "So. Um, should we get to class?"

If it's an invitation to walk together, Eddie isn't interested. One step in the right direction isn't about to catapult them back to where they left off after getting ice cream. "No," she tells him. "I should get to class, and you should get to class. Separately. But I'll see you in calculus. Okay?"

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Okay."


	21. Chapter 21

_Thursday_

"You're not usually in the food line."

Jamie looks up as he shuffles forward. "Uh, yeah…I don't have a packed lunch today so…"

"What, your mommy didn't make you a five-star turkey sandwich today?" Eddie teases.

"My mommy has the stomach flu," Jamie informs her in the same taunting tone. "And I got up too late to make anything myself. What are _you_ doing in line? Your personal chef had the morning off?"

"It's spaghetti day. I always buy lunch on spaghetti day."

"Overcooked pasta and watery tomato sauce. Yum."

"Garlic bread," she says. "It's all about the garlic bread."

He lets out a small laugh - really he's just glad she's not ignoring him anymore, even if all the small encounters they've had in the last few days have been as pointless as this one. She's still been quiet, a far cry from the animated ball of energy he got to know over winter break. But this is the first time she's been the one to initiate their conversation in weeks and he has to remind himself to contain his smile at this development.

"Got any plans for the long weekend?" he asks, not ready to fall back into silence yet.

"Um, not really. Next week is the regional swim meet so this weekend we're just supposed to relax."

"Oh. Nice."

"You?"

"Debate tournament," he tells her. "It's all impromptu - where we don't know the topic until right before we go onstage, they just give us a few articles and that's all we have to go on."

"Isn't that, like, really hard?"

"Yeah. But it's fine. Thomas and I, we're really good. We'll win," he shrugs breezily.

"Well good. Because you already know I can't be friends with losers."

"Friends?"

"Yeah, we're friends. Don't be weird."

"I just-" he chuckles. "That's news to me. Good news."

"See, that - that's being weird. Stop it."

"I'm not being weird!"

She rolls her eyes, narrowing her gaze over her shoulder before she steps up to the glass-shielded counter. "Everything, please - and can I have extra garlic bread?"

* * *

 _Wednesday_

Eddie is so focused on the math worksheet in front of her that she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sudden feeling of fingers tapping against her shoulder.

She glances first at Lauren and Amy - they're supposed to be helping her with this group assignment, but they've been more concerned about restaurant options for Saturday morning's bus trip to the regional swim meet - before she cranes to see Jamie standing behind her.

"Sorry," he says. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"What is it?" she asks.

"Did you figure out the antiderivative for the last one on the second page?"

"Go ask Ms. Chapple," Amy tells him dismissively.

"Thomas is but she's busy." He nods over to where Thomas waits against the wall with two classmates while Ms. Chapple helps another confused student.

"This isn't even that hard," Eddie mutters.

"See, you're the only person who thinks that, which is why I came straight to the expert."

She feels her features melt into an easy smile. "Could you say that one more time? Is anyone recording this? I'm the _expert_."

Lauren rolls her eyes, though Eddie doesn't miss the hint of a smirk that surfaces on her face. "Do you have a math question?" she teases. "Or did you just come over here to grin at her like a dumbass?"

"I have a question!" he insists.

"Then ask it!"

"Well, for this one-" Jamie sets his paper on Eddie's desk and leans one arm over her shoulder to point "-how do you deal with the stuff inside the parentheses?"

"I just distributed this term to get rid of the parentheses altogether," Eddie explains. "Then you can just go term by term like all the other ones."

"Oh! Okay. Right."

He crouches next to Eddie, still using her desk as he works out the problem on his paper. She sits back to watch him work and she can feel Lauren and Amy's eyes on her. She ignores them until Jamie stands up, shifting an expectant glance between Eddie's face and his paper.

"Yeah, that's what I got," she tells him.

"Okay. Good. Thanks."

"Sure."

"Well, we've got to finish our worksheet," Lauren says.

"Yeah. Of course." He rushes to gather his packet, holding it up to signal to Thomas that he's got the answer to their issue. With one last small smile he weaves around the desks to get back to his own in the front of the classroom.

Lauren watches him go and then she leans forward on her elbows. "He's an idiot, Eddie."

"He's got a point – way faster to ask me for help than wait in line. I'm the _expert_ , after all."

"Ms. Chapple did almost the exact same problem on the board – look at the last example in the notes," Amy says. "You really think _Jamie Reagan_ needed help doing it by himself?"

"Since when do you pay attention to the notes?"

Lauren lets out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head. "If he really needed help, he's an idiot. And if he didn't, well, he's still an idiot."

* * *

 _Monday_

Eddie sees him at her locker from all the way down the hall, trying to look casual as he leans against the wall there, though his searching eyes give away his excited anticipation. They light up when he sees her and he pushes off the lockers to stand up straight. "So? How'd you do?"

"Second!"

"Second?" he cries, withdrawing the arms he'd been extending for a hug. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Unacceptable, Janko."

"Don't even talk. You came in third at your debate thing last week."

"In the hardest kind of tournament! Against two of the top five finishers at states last year!"

"I thought _you_ were a top five finisher at states last year."

"I was, but not in that kind of debate."

"Move," Eddie orders, shouldering him aside so she can reach her locker. "The only girl who beat me has a scholarship to one of the best swimming schools in the country-"

"Was it that St. Agnes girl?"

"Yeah," she drawls suspiciously. "What, have you been doing your research on high school swimming?"

"I watched her beat you that one time," he reminds her. "And I watched _you_ beat _her_ at districts. What's wrong, couldn't do it again?"

"I didn't eat enough garlic bread the night before," Eddie jokes.

"Garlic bread, magic fuel…?"

"That and ice cream."

"I should've known."

"And hey, I learned, so at states next week I'll be ready to go."

"But maybe you should sabotage that St. Agnes girl, just to be safe," he says. "Nothing major, just…I don't know, hide her goggles or something."

" _Cheating_?" she gasps. "Jamie! I didn't know you had that in you."

"It's not cheating!" he laughs, hands up in a display of innocence. "It's _facilitating_. Shifting the odds in your favor."

"More like they'd shift my ass right out of the pool if they found out I did something like that."

"So don't let anyone find out. I'll help you. I come from a family of cops, I know how to get away with a crime."

"So you admit it _is_ wrong."

"I thought you wanted to win! Just trying to help."

"Well. Thanks for the suggestion. But no thanks." She grins at him as she slams her locker shut.

"Here if you need me," he says. "Hey, do you want to go to the library until first block?"

"Not today, I have to go argue with my Spanish teacher about my last test grade so…"

"Oh," he says, his face falling a little. "Señora Olsen?"

"Yep."

"Damn. Good luck."

She grimaces and he returns the expression with a sympathetic smile. "You'll be fine," he promises. "Just tell her you like that weird cactus poster behind her desk and she'll do anything you ask."

"I tried that once before and it didn't work," Eddie laments.

"Well then – eat some garlic bread and hide her goggles. Or her red pen, I guess. You'll beat her."

"You're really not helpful," Eddie groans, but her eye roll doesn't disguise the amusement on her face as she turns to walk away.

* * *

 _Friday_

The snow started early this morning as what looked like an annoying flurry that would do little more than make the trip to school a little extra sloshy. But now it's coming down so hard that Jamie can't see the street outside his classroom window through the wall of white. Six or eight inches have accumulated just during the first two classes of the day and there is no sign that it'll slow down anytime soon.

"It's just a little snow, guys," the chemistry teacher sighs at the front of the room. "Let's focus and get through this chapter, hmm?"

But it doesn't help. The class buzzes over any attempts at a lesson as excited whispers speculate whether administration will close school early like that one storm two years ago, when they got two and a half days off while the public school students still had to trudge through eighteen inches of snow to get to class.

They don't have to wait long. Ten minutes before the end of third period, the schoolwide PA dings to life: "Attention teachers and students, due to the inclement weather, the school day will conclude at 11:45 at the end of fourth period. Lunch will still be served. We ask all students to leave campus no later than 12:30..."

The principal keeps talking but nobody hears the rest of the announcement over the explosion of excited conversation. There's no hope for finishing the lesson after that so the chemistry teacher doesn't even try to rein her students back in. They pack up and inch closer to the door, practically bursting into the hallway as soon as the bell rings.

The rest of the school is just as thrilled as Jamie's chemistry class. He concentrates on fighting his way through the jostling hallway crowd, muttering to himself about the chaos when they still have to get through one more class before they can go home…

"Jamie!"

Eddie is so short that he doesn't see her until she's elbowing her way into his tiny bubble of personal space. "What are you gonna do?" she asks, bouncing beside him as she pushes her way through the crowd. "Some of us, I think we're going to the park, go sledding or whatever, and then go over to Katie Bateman's because she's got a hot tub."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, so're you in? We just have to go meet Lauren, she'll drive us-"

"What, now?"

"Yeah! Come on!"

"But school isn't over yet."

"So? It's not like anyone's gonna do anything important before the early dismissal."

"I…"

Her hand finds his forearm and she tugs as they reach the library hallway, where a left turn will send him to fourth period history or going straight will take them past his locker on the way to the small student parking lot. "It'll be fun!" she cries. "Come onnnn!"

"Eddie," he groans, wincing, "I shouldn't - I shouldn't skip history. And I promised my grandpa we'd hang out tonight."

Confused disappointment clouds over her blue eyes. "You can hang out with your grandpa any night."

He offers an apologetic shrug that he knows will do nothing to appease her.

"But early dismissals _never_ happen!" she cries. "Hurry up, everyone else is probably already leaving-"

"I'm sorry. I can't tonight."

She looks up at him for a moment, her brows twitching together into the slightest frown, but she doesn't push anymore. "Alright, fine," she sighs. "I should go then."

"Have fun," he tells her, and she leaves him with a small insincere smile as she heads for the door.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Poor, silly, clueless Jamie. Eddie might need to take matters into her own hands if Jamko is meant to be..._


	22. Chapter 22

_Tuesday_

 _So why isn't he your boyfriend yet?_

The question weighs heavily on Eddie's mind as the party around her winds down. She's heard it, or some variation of it, she doesn't even know how many times in the last few weeks. It's all a joke - the swim coach is notorious for singling out the team members he knows can handle a little teasing and he hasn't let up since finding out that Jamie sat through the entire four-hour district swim meet just to see Eddie in the pool for sixty-four seconds. On the surface she laughs along, acting like she doesn't mind. But now that the high school swim season is totally over, she has time to let it bother her that she doesn't know the answer to that question.

"I'm still dropping you off at home, right?" Lauren asks, pulling her winter coat over her new State Swimming Championship hoodie. "Where's your jacket? I'm ready to get out of here."

"Me too, just one second." Eddie circles the kitchen island of the spacious Bay Ridge house where the state-qualifying swimmers have been celebrating their weekend of success, grabbing a leftover piece of pizza as she passes.

"Come _on_ ," Lauren groans. "You already ate a whole pizza by yourself…"

"I'm still hungry!"

"Just don't make a mess in my car. Here." Lauren digs Eddie's jacket from the remaining ones draped over the back of the sofa and tosses it at her head.

"Don't wipe my pizza fingers on your leather seats, I know, I know."

"You don't have to go home but you can't stay here!" Coach yells out. "It's late, Michael needs his beauty sleep before school tomorrow. And everybody thank Michael's parents for this nice get-together…"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hamilton," Eddie calls.

"Great job on Saturday, Eddie!" their hostess says. "Congratulations, Lauren. Get home safely, girls."

Lauren offers her own thanks as she and Eddie brush past two teammates digging for their shoes in the pile by the front door. Eddie shoves her hands into the pockets of her too-big grey sweatpants to stave off the freezing night air on her way to Lauren's car parked at the curb.

"Watch the pizza!" Lauren yelps. "I'm not kidding, Eddie, I will make you wash this whole car yourself-"

"I'm watching the pizza," Eddie mumbles. She takes a bite as Lauren pulls away from the curb but she's distracted again - Michael Hamilton's house is just a few blocks from Jamie's on a street that's basically identical, so she guesses that's why that question has popped back to the front of her mind.

 _Why isn't he your boyfriend yet?_

Because he got jealous. Because just when things were getting interesting, he blew Eddie's innocent friendship with a guy way out of proportion and exploded and shut the whole thing down.

 _Why isn't he your boyfriend yet?_

Because he, for whatever reason - Eddie still hasn't figured out the whole story - let himself get dragged into something with Theresa Mancini, who somehow wore out her welcome in the course of a week by, as rumor has it, trying to turn Jamie and his debate skills into her ticket to an Ivy League education she's not savvy enough to earn on her own.

 _Why isn't he your boyfriend yet?_

Because the moment Theresa Mancini disappeared back into whatever hole she came from, Jamie scampered back to Eddie - but amid his strange mess of teacher advice and secret swim meet spectating and expectations that everything could flip back to the way it was, _no harm no foul_ , was a shitty apology that left Eddie certain that until he started talking, Jamie hadn't even realized that he needed to apologize. And once he figured it out he still hardly knew what he was supposed to be apologizing for.

Because ever since that apology a few weeks ago, Jamie's acted like nothing ever went wrong. He's been friendly, flirty - as much as someone like Jamie Reagan can be flirty, at least. He's acted interested. He's sought her out everywhere - he waits by her locker, walks her to class, waves hello from across the cafeteria.

But he always pulls back.

He walks her to class and just when she thinks he's going to hug or kiss her goodbye, he speeds off down the hallway. He talks about meeting up outside of school but other than his one invite to the regional championship basketball game that Eddie had to turn down because of swim practice, he's been the one to dodge out of every chance they've had - always for legitimate reasons, but stupid ones nonetheless. She's _still_ a little irritated about his choice to play cards with his grandpa two weekends ago rather than spend the snow day with Eddie in a hot tub.

 _Why isn't he your boyfriend yet?_

 _Because he's an idiot._

"Wait!" Eddie cries. "Stop!"

Lauren slams on the brakes, throwing Eddie forward against her seatbelt. "What's wrong?"

"I - I left my hat at Michael's."

"Jesus, Eddie!" Lauren hisses. "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry."

Lauren takes a deep breath to compose herself and she adjusts her grip on her steering wheel. "Everyone knows that thing is yours. Michael will bring it to school tomorrow. It's fine."

"No, I'll just go-"

"Eddie!" Lauren screeches. Her foot pounds the brake again, lurching the car to another stop from its slow forward roll as Eddie's hand pulls the handle to let the passenger door fall open. "What the hell! Are you crazy?"

"Go ahead home," Eddie says. "I'll run back to Michael's, grab my hat-"

"Close the door!"

But Eddie's already unlatched her seatbelt and flung one foot out onto the pavement. Lauren's protests get louder until Eddie slams the door behind her, but the window rolls down as soon as she does.

"It's a stupid hat, Eddie, I'm not waiting-"

"Don't wait. I'll be fine."

"We have to go home! It's late!"

"Go ahead!" Eddie insists cheerfully. She hops onto the curb and starts walking back the way they came.

Lauren reverses the car and lets it drift backwards. "What are you going to do?"

"Grab my hat and go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"What, you're not going to take the subway by yourself at ten thirty at night - Eddie! Get back in the damn car!"

But Eddie ignores her and another car drives up the quiet residential street behind Lauren, giving off two quick honks to make her drive forward. "I'm going back to Michael's!" Lauren screams as she pulls forward. "What is wrong with you, Ed-?"

Eddie pauses long enough to watch Lauren's taillights make the left turn to circle back to Michael's house. Then she wrestles her trademark neon pink hat from her jacket pocket, yanks it over her sloppy ponytail, and goes right.

* * *

Numb fingers clench and unclench inside Eddie's pockets to fight off the cold. The darkness got her all turned around on that unfamiliar street and she walked two blocks in the wrong direction before reaching the subway entrance at 86th and realizing her mistake. She corrected herself and now she's turning the corner onto Jamie's street, shuddering against the body-wracking cold as it occurs to her that she doesn't actually have a plan.

She slows as she gets closer, taking a moment to think about what she's actually going to do. She needs to get inside, or at least get Jamie's attention somehow, but she can't exactly walk up to the front door at this time of-

"Hey!"

The sharp, barking voice stops Eddie in her tracks. The porch lights on either side of the front door do little to illuminate the tall, angular figure who steps off the brick stoop towards Eddie's position at the corner of the front yard, but she can tell it's Jamie's brother.

"You're - you're Jamie's friend, right?"

"Y - yeah."

"What're you doing here?"

"I-" she stutters or shivers, she's not sure.

Joe takes a few steps closer, one hand outstretched. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Eddie manages. "Sorry, I'll just - I'm g-going home."

"No, no - you're freezing, come here. What are you doing here?"

She lets him drape his coat over her shoulders on top of her own, looking at her feet as she tells him, "I wanted to talk to Jamie."

"Now? Why?"

"I - because - he's an idiot."

She inhales a shaky breath, almost relishing in the ache of the frigid air in her chest because it distracts her from everything else that's happening right now, from the fact that her nonexistent plan to talk some sense into Jamie has been thwarted by Joe of all people -

"Ohhh," Joe chuckles, an easy drawn-out sound that might make Eddie believe it's Jamie next to her on the sidewalk, except that Joe wears better shoes. "So that's what this is about."

Confusion fights to contort Eddie's face, though the cold wins out and leaves her mostly expressionless. "Huh?"

Joe snakes one arm across Eddie's shoulders and urges her up the small incline of stale snow towards the front door. "You have to understand - my little brother thinks he can keep his own secrets but I can see right through him. I didn't know _who_ but I should've known it was you…"

Eddie focuses on not tripping through the front yard and she tries to listen as Joe mumbles something about _sad Jamie_ and then _moody Jamie_ and then _happy Jamie_ , and how lucky it is that he had to run home tonight to pick up the notebook he needs for tomorrow's Police Ethics lecture-

Joe finds the right key and gingerly slides it into the front door before ushering Eddie inside. It's dark except for a faint glow coming from the kitchen and a nightlight plugged into the socket at the landing of the stairs.

"Up there," Joe whispers, tipping his chin. "Second door on the right. But you already know that."


	23. Chapter 23

The soft knock on Jamie's bedroom door urges a small irritated sigh out of his chest. "I know it's late, Mom," he says. "I'm almost done…"

" _Jamie!_ "

His eyes widen but otherwise he's anchored in place at the unexpected voice he hears. _Is that-?_

" _Jamie!_ " she says again, accompanied by another series of taps on the other side of the door. "I'm coming in."

He pivots on his wooden chair as the door cracks open and Eddie sidesteps into his room before gingerly shutting it behind her. "Eddie - what the-?"

She shrugs off her jacket, draping it over the footboard of Jamie's twin bed as she sits at the end of it. "So this is your room," she remarks. "Pretty much what I guessed it would look like."

"Yeah, this is my room. What are you doing in it at almost eleven?"

She doesn't answer. He watches her take in her surroundings: beige walls decorated only with a shadowbox commemorating last year's debate nationals, two pictures of classic cars in thin black frames, a calendar, and a bulletin board neatly laid out with a few pictures and awards; a tall heavy shelf with books arranged by size; his desk, empty other than a lamp, mug of pencils, his chemistry textbook and the problem set he's been working on for the last hour; the dresser, whose top is also clear besides a few gleaming trophies and the CD player that plays an old Pearl Jam album; and the navy duvet on the perfectly made bed where she sits. The only thing remotely out of place is the school uniform shirt hanging from his closet doorknob.

"You can't stay here," he finally says. "If my parents catch you-"

"Oh, relax, all the lights are off downstairs. Nobody's going to catch me."

"My mom might still be awake, though - hey, are those my pants?"

Grinning, Eddie looks down and shoves her hands into her sweatpants pockets, flaring the extra fabric away from her hips in a way that shows how huge they are. "Mayb-"

"Jamie, honey?"

His eyes widen with horror at the sound of his mother's voice outside his door. "Uh - yeah Mom?" he says while Eddie, mirroring his panicked expression, flies across his room and disappears into his closet.

"Are you still working? Don't you think it's time to be going to sleep?" She cracks his door and peers inside to see him standing awkwardly by his desk, where he tries desperately not to look over at Eddie's jacket on his bed that might give them away.

"Um - I'm almost done," he croaks, then clears his throat. "Just - a really long chemistry assignment-"

"Hey Mom!" comes Joe's voice from someplace downstairs. "Do you know where Dad put my Cold Steel?"

Mary leans back out of Jamie's room as Jamie inches closer to his door to block her view of Eddie's jacket. "Joey, you're still here? I thought you left."

"I'm about to but I can't find that knife…"

"Lights out soon, Jamie. I love you." She kisses him on the cheek before turning away to help Joe look for his pocketknife.

His bedroom door clicks shut behind her and Jamie leans back against it, letting out a relieved sigh. But he doesn't get a chance to recover more than that before Eddie pokes her head out from his closet.

"Sweet dreams! I love you, Jamie! Don't let the bedbugs bite!" she mocks in a whisper. "Does your mommy always come tuck you in?"

"Uh-uh," he says, shaking his head. "Nope, no way, you've gotta go. Now."

"What do you want me to do, climb out the window? Your mom just went downstairs!"

He pauses, glancing at his window - not actually considering it, but maybe -

"No way, Jamie!"

"Oh, good, you found it?" Mary suddenly calls from halfway up the stairs, if Jamie's judging right. "Goodnight, Joe, drive safely!"

Eddie and Jamie both freeze for ten seconds that stretch on for years as they wait for Mary's footsteps to pass by Jamie's door on the way back to her bedroom. He waits until he hears the telltale squeak of her door closing to dart across the room and wrap his hands around Eddie's arm.

"You have to go," he whispers frantically.

"Why?"

"Did you miss the part where my mom almost _caught us_?" he hisses.

"Caught us doing what? Standing ten feet away from each other while you do your homework?"

"Ugh, Eddie, come on."

"Make me," she dares, her eyes dancing in the dim gold light of his bedroom.

He tugs at her but she resists, digging her heels into the carpet and anchoring her free hand to the closet doorframe. She's deceptively strong for how little she is and he quickly gives up rather than risk making any more noise. "Please, Eddie," he begs.

She regards him with a darkening gaze for a long moment, assessing his white t-shirt and low-hanging plaid pajama pants in a way that makes him feel awkwardly exposed. He fidgets with the hem of his shirt just to give his hands something to do while his eyes zero in on her face - an expression he hasn't seen on her since -

Before Jamie can process what she's doing, Eddie grasps his elbows and shifts up onto her toes and brushes her lips against his.

He just stands there at first, stiff and unmoving under her touch. She eases back and inhales through parted lips, confusion evident there as she searches his face for a reason.

"I thought-" she whispers, but that's all she manages to say before something snaps inside Jamie's head and he tips his chin to find her mouth again.

This need rises through his body out of nowhere. He slants his mouth over hers, holding her to him with one hand on the huge band of rolled fabric at her hip while the other weaves into her hair. He doesn't miss her quiet hum of contentment and her palms slide up his arms, over his shoulders to allow her fingers to toy with the short hair at the back of his neck. Her skin is still ice cold and the sensation sends a shiver down his spine as he captures her bottom lip, releases it, urges her closer before he dives in again.

It's intense, the kind of kiss that leaves him breathless, buzzing, unwilling to pause even long enough to draw air. He's convinced himself that after the awful things he said to her, after Theresa flaunted their - _thing_ all over school, that Eddie couldn't possibly want to be anything other than his friend, if even that. But now the way she stretches to fit her body against his shows him just how wrong that assumption was. Those strong feelings she's invoked in him from the start, that he's suppressed since Eddie's district swim meet under the guise of low expectations, have exploded to the surface and now he can't remember exactly what it was that took him so long.

He doesn't notice that he's pushed the hat off her head until Eddie's mouth leaves his. He searches for her and she giggles against his lips as she manages to catch the hat before it falls all the way off.

"Are you laughing at me?" he murmurs.

"No!" she insists, but she can't hold in the last little laugh that slips out.

"I think you're laughing at me!"

"Jamie! I'm not."

She tips her head back to smile up at him with an irresistible warm glimmer in her eyes. But he still dodges, grinning, when she leans up to kiss him again. "I think you are."

Eddie wrinkles her nose and this time he's powerless to resist when she meets his lips once more. They're promptly interrupted, though, by another gentle knock on his door that launches him backwards like some kind of electric shock.

He doesn't even have time to panic before Joe's head cranes around the edge of the door.

"So," Joe smirks. "You kids done in here or…?"

"Joe!" Jamie hisses. He lunges toward him but Joe wedges his body between the door and the frame before Jamie can close him out. "This isn't what it - we were just-"

Joe palms the side of Jamie's head and pushes him aside. "Because I don't want to leave you here without a ride home, Eddie, but I gotta get going."

Jamie regains his balance and lets his perplexed gaze shift between his brother and his - girlfriend? Is that what she is now? They haven't exactly had a chance to discuss-

"Alright, yeah, I can go," Eddie says.

"Wh - you're leaving?"

Eddie brushes the loose strands of hair away from her face and replaces her hat on her head. "Looks like it."

"Bus leaves in one minute," Joe says. "Use it wisely." Then with a pointed wink at Jamie he ducks out of his bedroom.

Jamie turns back to Eddie. Stepping across the distance that separates them, she stops right in front of him but she coyly avoids eye contact as she reaches one arm to scoop up her jacket from Jamie's bed.

"You're going with Joe?"

"I got what I came for," she murmurs.

"But-"

"But I really have to leave, remember? Wouldn't want to get caught..."

He exhales his amusement at the way she turns his earlier plea around on him. Finally she turns her eyes to meet his gaze and he ducks his head for one more brief kiss.

"Love 'em and leave 'em?" he jokes grimly as she backs away.

"No," she says. "Just gotta leave something to look forward to for next time."

"Next time?"

"Yeah Jamie, next time. Unless - you don't want there to be a next time-"

"Oh trust me. I can't wait for next time."

"Good," she says with a sparkling grin that sends something swooping deep in his gut. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he echoes.

Eddie catches his eye with a final lasting look before she sidles out of his room, closing the door behind her. He stays in place next to his bed, processing for a long moment as his tongue reaches for the lingering taste of her cherry Chapstick on his lips.

 _Next time_.

 _Tomorrow_.

Her words leave him unable to contain a wide smile as he moves to his desk, closing his chemistry book - he definitely won't get anything else done after the last five minutes - before he turns off the light.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Well, I think this chapter about wraps things up for now. Thanks for sticking with me through the anguish and ecstasy of high school Jamko! It's been fun but I'm excited to move on to other projects. See you soon! :)_


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